


Fallout

by louisandsass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Anger, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not done with this fic, Implied Sexual Content, It is on haitus, M/M, Mild Language, Unrequited Love, XX, larry stylinson - Freeform, later...actual sexual content, my apologies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisandsass/pseuds/louisandsass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis disappears on a special day leaving Harry alone with his thoughts and heartbreak. Zayn is there to ease the pain. Louis is out there somewhere and Harry will be damned if he ever sees him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An empty room

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, this is totally fictional and I own nothing?? 
> 
> The title was inspired by "Fallout," a lovely song by Marianas Trench.

[ **24th of April – 6:15 a.m.** ]

“Are you almost here?” Harry breathes into the phone.

It’s early and he’s impatient. That’s one side of it.

" _I have to stop for gas_ ," Louis informs him in a way that practically screams _duh_.

Harry sighs, frustration leaking into his senses. Their flight is in two hours and his boyfriend is running late per usual.

“ _Hey, I got you something_.”

The mischievous tone stretches Harry’s lips into a ridiculous grin.

Louis spent the past two weeks in Bristol with his family. It's been a tough separation for the boys—the first big one in three years—Louis having to sneak calls and texts in between family time. Jay thinks her son needs to go to some sort of rehab—one that can help sweep curls and emerald orbs out of Louis’ mind for longer than a minute. She approves, though, always has.

“Don’t distract me. I’m supposed to be angry at you for waking up late. Have you ever heard of an alarm clock?”

“ _I’m used to you being my human alarm clock, so don’t rush me. I’m pulling up to Wagner’s as we speak, gotta fill up the—_ ”

“WAGNER’S GAS STATION? That’s almost half an hour away!”

“ _I can be at the airport in ten, Harold_.”

“Don’t call me that,” Harry says half-heartedly. “I rather you drive safely for once.”

Louis huffs on the other line. “ _I always drive safely. It’s you I worry about_.”

“Just get here soon, yeah?”

“ _Certainly_.”

Harry eyes the gray box in his free hand. It looks small against his palm. He shakes the box carefully; identifying a particular sound to make sure _it_ is still in there.

That’s the other side of it; the reason why Harry’s been losing sleep.

It wasn’t _just_ because he missed pressing against the older boy, the one with the steel blue eyes and great bum. It wasn’t _just_ for the soft voice that knows how to whisper his name in the most tantalizing ways. Or that gentle smile that tends to appear with impeccable timing. Of course he missed all of that and much more. But Harry has lost sleep within the past two weeks of his boyfriend’s absence because of the idiotic decision he came up with. He’s going to throw himself out into a haze of questions: love me regardless? Be with me for keeps? Don’t ever leave me behind?

Louis Tomlinson is the one Harry’s mind buzzes about with a never-ending stream of desire and affection, the one that drives him absolutely insane. Their young ages of 22 and 24 in no way affected Harry’s decision to buy the silver band he’s currently guarding with an unsteady hand. 

Louis just needs to answer his damn questions with a yes so that he can get some sleep.

They’re celebrating their third anniversary in Greece. Louis has wanted to visit there since he first watched _The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants_ , something Harry pretends to have no knowledge of. It’s a beautiful place that Louis admires and Harry wants to make sure it remains that way which is why he’s taking the ring and questions with him.

“Lou, be careful.”

“ _I’m careful by default, don’t be a prude. Oh and Haz?_ ”

Harry waits. His breath hitches with the anticipation because everything Louis says at the end of a call is important. It’s the final line in a book that gives the reader the satisfaction of enduring pages and pages of plot and detail. It’s the rhetoric behind the concluding statements in a well-written speech that makes change happen. It’s the last scene in a highly acclaimed film that causes applause to erupt from an audience.  Louis is the author, the speaker, the director, that manipulates Harry’s actions more than anyone else ever has. Even through the phone apparently.

He’s definitely screwed. In a good way, that is.

Harry slips the small box into an inside pocket of his coat, right by the drum that beats to the tempo of _Louis_ , where he knows it’ll be safe.

Louis chuckles at Harry’s labored breathing, deliberately rising suspense. “ _Smile, my love_ ,” he says in a voice so soft the skin at the back of Harry’s neck tingles with delight.

And just like that, he complies without considering the submissive side that always gives in to Louis Tomlinson.

~ ~ ~

[ **8:01 a.m.** ]

Harry paces outside of Terminal 8. Their flight leaves in fourteen minutes. He’s called Louis more than fourteen times, probably texted him enough to permanently bruise his thumbs.

“Ten minutes my ass.”

He’s about to chuck his iPhone across the way when the Assistant Airport Manager clears his throat. Harry holds onto the offensive device reluctantly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Styles, but we cannot hold up this flight for your friend.”

“My _boyfriend_ will be here,” Harry says through gritted teeth. It’s all he can do to keep himself from cursing at the polite gentleman.

“Even so, he’ll have to go through baggage check and, well, you know the procedure takes a while.”

Harry and Louis are no strangers to Heathrow Airport, they travel every other month. Having received a large sum of inheritance from a son-less great uncle, Louis is well off. Harry not so much, thus why it took him several months to save up for this trip, firmly declining Louis’ offer to help.

Not wanting to argue, Harry stands in a long line to pay the flight cancellation fee, shoulders sagging and face burning.

Louis probably got himself stuck in traffic with a dead phone battery. That’s the only plausible explanation. Not that Harry’s trying to find an excuse for him…

He tries calling Louis one last time. A very familiar voicemail greets him with the silly, “ _Oi! Louis here! Well, not really because at the moment I obviously have something better to do. Leave a cheeky salute!_ ”

Harry rolls his eyes and leaves a lovely “you are so dead” message for Louis to enjoy later.

~ ~ ~

[ **8:52 a.m.** ]

Their plane is gone. Harry watched it depart within a group of impressed children.

Personally, he’s not impressed.

He’s sprawled out on a bench outside of Heathrow, waiting for Louis. That is, if Louis ever plans on showing up. He’d go home but since he can’t exactly call to let Louis know where he’ll be, he decides to wait. What more is a few hours?

They’ve been living together for almost two years. Louis moved into Harry’s flat without a formal invitation. It just sort of happened one year into their relationship. It began with the late-night cuddles and spontaneous sleepovers. Eventually Louis made his own space in Harry’s closet, regularly leaving random articles of clothing piled up neatly. He even claimed one of the bathroom cabinets as his own.

Quite on circumstance, Louis noticed Harry was having trouble keeping up with the bills, having to hand over most of his monthly salary in the process. Harry’s crap job of tending to rich country club members is, well, crap. So Louis took over most of the payments, much to Harry’s protests and pride tantrums.

_Hush Harold, now you’ll be able to take me out on romantic dates. Your parent’s cottage is nice but Paris is nicer. So is Barcelona. And Greece!_

Greece, ha.

Dozens of people enter and leave the airport, some with minimal baggage, and some simply holding their partner’s hand. Harry’s squeezing his empty hand closed, knuckles turning whiter than his patience. At this point he’s surprised his phone hasn’t been shattered by the pressure in his other hand.

It’s ridiculous. Louis has always been late but never _this_ late. He wasn’t even _this_ late for his mother’s dreadful second marriage. And that was a miracle in itself. Besides, the idiot has a bloody phone charger in his car, for Christ’s sake.

A thought hits him the way bulldozers knock down buildings, dissipating every structure and sense this way and that. Harry’s whole being shutters as it comes to the realization that Louis isn’t a _complete_ idiot. He would have utilized his brain to use his charger if his phone were in fact dead. Something else must be up.

Incessant panic charges Harry’s nerves. He can’t hear a single thing besides the fitful pounding in his chest. The drum that usually taps along to _Louis_ in a harmonious and pleasant way is sounding more like a tribal drum warning an ancient village of an incoming attack.

He’s sure that if something happened to Louis—something he’s not willing to label yet—he’ll find evidence of it on the highway leading to the airport all the way from Wagner’s Gas Station. Louis has never been the safest driver. Harry will kill him if he was speeding like he joked he would.  

So why is it suddenly okay that Harry’s racing down the highway like he’s reenacting a scene in _The Fast and the Furious_? Because every minute that passes could be another minute that Louis needs him. That’s what he tells himself when his hands tremble despite their strong hold of the steering wheel.

He praises the traffic gods for the partially empty road. Surveying the area for signs of a car accident is easier without having to worry about his own safety. Relief flushes over him when he reaches Wagner’s without having found an obstruction of glass and tires.

The sole gas attendant, Wagner himself, nods twice when Harry shows him a picture of Louis that was taken with his phone.

“He filled half his tank and bought an egg salad sandwich.”

“Of course he did,” Harry grumbles. “What time was it?”

“Just after six? I was helping someone else when he pulled up.”

Harry is not sure when he became a detective because for the moment he can’t stop the flood of inquiries from spilling out of his mouth. He’s probably been watching too much SVU lately.

“Did he leave right when he was done here? Which way did he go? Did he take the south route? He went south, right? Was there traffic on the highway?”

“Woah, okay,” Wagner says. He wipes a grease-stained hand on his ratty uniform and pats Harry’s shoulder awkwardly. Harry tries to not focus on the patronizing feeling the gesture gives him. “Your friend left after he bought his sandwich.” He pauses for a moment and adds, “I’m not sure which way he went, but no, I don’t recall seeing any traffic.”

Harry moves out of Wagner’s not-so-comforting touch and stares down at his shoes to process the information. It doesn’t make sense, he decides. If there wasn’t traffic, Louis should have made it to Heathrow as quick as he claimed he would. That is, if he even went the way Harry assumes.

“Are you sure you didn’t see which way he went?”

Wagner grunts. Harry takes that as a yes.

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Mentioned how hungry he was.”

A disgruntled sound escapes Harry’s throat. There’s just one last question he has for the older man who is starting to lose interest in the interrogation.

“Did he seem off? Was he in a good mood?”

“He hummed while I counted out his change. Guess he was happy.”

Harry blinks.

Wagner starts to walk away; he’s got a line of customers waiting for his service. “Seems to me that your friend stood you up, kid,” he says over his shoulder.

There it is again:  _friend_.

Louis is really close to becoming his _friend_ if he doesn’t quit this game of hide-‘n-seek.

~ ~ ~

[ **10:29 a.m**.]

He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting upon arriving home. Maybe a note or some sign that Louis showed up while he was gone. Harry finds none of that. Not even a slight change in their bedroom. Nothing is missing except for the person he’s been looking for.

The painful stillness surrounding their flat does nothing to placate every emotion that flares up inside him. Is it anger? Harry doesn’t think so. It feels more like disappointment. He might as well have walked into a big empty room instead of the place where some of his fondest memories exist.

Harry pulls out a pen and paper, makes a list, and gets to work. It keeps him busy.

~ ~ ~

[ **4:45 p.m.** ]

“I don’t know what to say.”

Harry glances at Zayn Malik from his spot on the couch. Zayn showed up as soon as Harry called him with a shaky voice in a stream of panic.  

“Then don’t say anything.”

They’ve been through a lot together: wisdom teeth removal, awkward double dates, fights, jokes no one else understands—nothing as mysterious as the present disappearance of their friend.

Zayn frowns and continues pacing. He’s been doing that since he arrived. It’s making Harry dizzy. And irritated.

Harry rushes out the words on his mind without giving his best friend an opening for sympathy. “I called Heathrow. The Assistant Manager said he’ll notify me when Louis shows up.”

Zayn catches that “when” without a beat. He stops walking for a second, his back to Harry. “And what if he doesn’t?”

“He’s a professional, of course—”

“I mean Lou. What if Lou doesn’t show up?”

The younger boy doesn’t want any sort of “what if” assessments right now. He wants Louis and his stupid laugh and stupid wit. He takes a deep breath and lets out, “If _Louis_ doesn’t show up, I’ll kill him.” He pauses thoughtfully and then adds, “He hates snakes so I’ll shove one down his trousers. Problem fucking solved.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, because really, Harry’s threats are unnecessary. The darker boy taps Harry’s list which he’s been grasping for the past hour. “Let’s review, shall we?”

Harry groans. “So much for you not knowing what to say—"

“Highway Patrol confirmed that there were no accidents this morning. Well, none that could have involved Louis, right?” Zayn ignores Harry’s reluctance to evaluate this further. “So that cancels out one theory.”

There’s a long pause as Zayn mulls something over. Harry can practically see the wheels turning in his head. “When you talked to him on the phone, was he already at Wagner’s?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!”

“He was just arriving.”

“Did he sound normal?”

_I can be at the airport in ten, Harold._

“Since when has Louis ever sounded remotely normal?”

“You’re not helping,” Zayn deadpans. He wipes the smirk off his lips before rewording his previous question, “Did he sound like himself?”

_I always drive safely. It’s you I worry about._

Harry nods in response because it’s the only way to keep his tears at bay.

“And you guys didn’t fight?”

_I’m careful by default, don’t be a prude._

Shrugging, Harry gulps down the knot in his throat. “Just a bit of banter but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Zayn, are you done playing reporter?”

“It just doesn’t add up,” Zayn sighs. He crumples Harry’s list for a second and then smoothens it out. “Unless—”

“Unless?” Harry sits up this time. He’d been slouching like a teenager in the middle of a dull lecture. Zayn tends to have that effect on him when he’s serious about something.

“Did something come up, a family emergency maybe?”

Harry shakes his head and returns to his previous slump.

“Have you phoned Jay?”

“Yeah. All is fine on their end. She saw him off this morning, said Lou, she said he looked excited…” Harry trails off; keeping his eyes somewhere above Zayn’s head.

“What about his sisters?” Zayn tries to keep the conversation going to keep Harry from lingering in his destructive thoughts for too long. He knows him so well.

“Same.”

“Stan?”

“He’s Louis’ childhood friend, of course I tried him already. Stan hasn’t heard much from him since they last played football in March.”

“Okay, what about Greg?”

If he had been slouching before, that was nothing compared to his new posture. The back of his head practically rests on his seat now, his long legs stretching far out on the carpet. He avoids Zayn’s questioning glance. “I haven’t… I rather not, okay?”

His friend gives him a stern look this time, eyebrows knitting together. “It wouldn’t hurt y’know.”

“I pass.”

“What if he knows something?”

“He better not.”

“I’ll call him.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

Harry jumps up to pounce on Zayn because he can predict his moves and he needs to make sure to keep his phone away from him. They struggle for a bit until Harry realizes too late that Zayn has already slipped his hand down the back pocket of Harry’s jeans. So maybe he can’t quite predict his moves. Zayn holds the device up with victory and moves away from Harry’s moving fist.

“I’ll never forgive you, Malik.”

“This is for research purposes so get over it.”

Zayn ignores the bird that Harry shoots him and finds Greg in the contact list. He doesn’t even question why Harry still has Louis’ ex’s number saved as _Satan_. It takes _Satan_ a while to answer. Zayn puts the call on speaker. Harry turns his head away and pretends to not be holding his breath.

“ _Styles_?” Greg sounds just as confused as Harry is annoyed with the traitor standing in his living room.

Zayn waits for Harry to answer but the younger boy keeps his lips pressed tightly in a line, adamant on not speaking. He proceeds to cross his arms in a childish stance. Zayn laments, figuring he better do the talking before _Satan_ hangs up.

“Hey mate, it’s Zayn. You alright?”

“ _Oh. Hey_?”

Greg doesn’t particularly like Zayn. Just by association.

“I’m alright, thanks for the concern. Listen, I need to ask you something important.”

“ _You’re not going to ask me out, are you_?”

Harry scoffs at the idea. Zayn snickers to simply humor him.

“Nah mate, I don’t date Louis’ leftovers.”

Zayn receives a sharp pinch on the arm from Harry but instead of shrieking in pain, he snorts at Greg’s displeasing gasp. The lad’s relationship with Louis sort of ended the day Harry came into the picture. Louis met Harry at a local carnival whilst on a date with Greg. They bonded over the caramel apples that Harry was selling as a volunteer. The next day Louis dumped Greg like they hadn’t been dating for several months and pursued the boy with the curly locks instead.

So Greg’s reaction to Zayn’s comment is warranted. Strange he hasn’t hung up yet.

Harry nudges Zayn in the ribs to remind him of the reason why they’re calling. Zayn mouths something about abuse at Harry and then returns to the task at hand.

“I—uh—I need to know if you’ve heard from Lou.”

The line goes quiet. Harry’s ears perk up at the silence. He swears he’ll throw something if Greg’s had any contact with Louis. If he even has a small inkling…

“ _He hasn’t talked to me in a long time_.” His confession is quick—sad too, like he’s resigned.

Harry smiles, ever so pleased to hear this, and even returns to his spot on the couch. Maybe he should thank Zayn for making this call; it definitely did something to boost his ego.

“You sure?” Zayn mutters dejectedly. Perhaps he was hoping that Greg, no matter his history with his friends, would be helpful.

“ _Tell Styles he wins even though I know he can hear me_.”

And with that, the conversation ends.

Harry and Zayn look at each other, bursting into subsequent laughter and having to clutch at their stomachs. Zayn holds up a hand to signal for the other to quiet down so that he can resume his SVU streak because he’s not quite finished.

“Now you can’t say I’m a shit friend,” he says with a wink. “I’m crossing Greg off the list although I'm pretty sure you forgot to write down his name. Who’s next?”

“As you can see yourself, I already tried the other guys he plays football with and there’s really no one else I can think of.”

Zayn resumes his annoying habit of pacing when he’s in contemplation. Harry senses the boy has more to say judging by the uncomfortable frown he’s wearing.

“What are you thinking now?” Harry asks cautiously. Although their phone call with Greg fulfilled his entertainment for the day, there’s nothing like his best friends’ demeanor.

“Whether Louis planned this.”

Harry cocks his head to the side.

Zayn decides to reveal what’s really been on his mind when he takes in Harry’s dumbfounded reaction. “For whatever reason I can’t imagine, it’s possible he meant to stand you up on this particular day.” It’s a tentative statement that sounds more accusatory than anything else.

It takes Harry a while to reply and when he does, it’s defensive. “Why would you even consider that?” He grabs a cushion to keep his hands still. He’s not sure when they began shaking.

“The guy disappears on the day you’re supposed to spend your third anniversary in fucking Greece and you think it’s a mere coincidence? And let’s not forget that he booked it to Bristol without inviting you _days_ before your planned trip. You spent months planning this, in case you forgot. It only took him like, what? Two weeks to decide that this might not be what he wants?

“At least, that’s what it seems to me. Sorry for thinking that way, but hey, Louis was never a saint.”

Harry shakes his head erratically as his pulse quickens. “He’s not that type of person. And what do you mean by that last part? Of course he wants this.” _Of course he wants me_ , Harry wants to say indignantly. He stands up to level Zayn with a scowl. “If he was having doubts about any of this, he would have told me.”

“Then why hasn’t he showed up yet?” Zayn snaps. “Why hasn’t he at least called to let you know he’s okay? Sure his phone might have died whatever. But there’s such thing as phone booths. Those shits still exist.”

Harry’s eyes are burning. If he didn’t cry earlier, he’s certain the waterworks are well on their way now.

“Face it Haz,” Zayn’s voice softens at the sight of his friend’s current distress. He reaches a hand out to rest it lightly on Harry’s chest. “It’s possible that Louis ran. I’m not saying all of this to hurt you.”

Is Zayn right? Did Louis run? Harry doesn’t fucking know. He can’t pretend like it’s not a possibility anymore. He’s had this sickening feeling since the morning, something he refuses to admit.

At some point his face is wet and he’s shaking again. He lets Zayn embrace him in a comforting hug. His whimpers aren’t muffled by his friend’s shoulder, to the contrary, the only sound filling their ears are his cries.

“Why?” Harry asks, quiet and resigned. 

Zayn doesn’t answer, has no idea what Louis’ motivation could be. He runs a hand gingerly through Harry’s messy hair. It’s his best friend’s preferable form of comfort. 

“I’m so sorry,” Zayn mutters into his ear. “I’ll help you find him.”

“Maybe later,” Harry sniffles. “I need to catch up on some sleep. Don’t wake me if Louis comes home, he can wait.” He curls up on the couch and wipes a hand over his face. “Tell him I said happy fucking anniversary because I forgot to say it this morning.” 


	2. I'm empty too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn gathers a search party. Harry sleeps, breaks things, and doesn't smile.

The sight of his best friend’s sleeping form is not new to him. How those long limbs manage to fit on couches meant for two people such as the one he’s occupying is insane. His hair is a mess. His arms are tucked under a cushion. His breathing is slow. His feet poke out from under the blanket Zayn spread over him. Everything about the way he’s sleeping is a little adorable. Zayn peels his eyes away when his phone chimes. He worries it’ll wake Harry up but that doesn’t happen. If anything, the sound of Ed Sheeran’s voice lulls him deeper into sleep.

**_where should matt nd i start lookin?_ **

He rereads Aiden’s message, a bit shocked that Matt’s helping out. He hardly knows Louis.

**local pubs, clubs, whatever else rhymes . thanks bro ! x**

As soon as Harry knocked out, Zayn took it upon himself to recruit an impromptu search party. His friend from university, Aiden, was the first to drop everything he was doing to help out. Zayn didn’t text anyone the details of the situation, not exactly sure Harry would approve.

He gets another text, this time from Harry’s neighbor, Jade.

**_hey, does Lou have any preferred spots ?_ **

**huntington park where he plays footie ? or try milkshake city x**

He smiles. Jade and her roommate Leigh-Anne signed up as well. Stan’s also been searching but he started on his own accord after Harry called him. The only ones Zayn hasn’t heard back from yet are Rita and Lenny. He hopes to hear from them soon. Meanwhile, he busies himself with figuring out the right way to wake Harry up.

He’s been mumbling for Louis in between peaceful snores. And when he does, his brows crease with worry. Even in his sleep, he can’t quit the concern in his nerves. Zayn feels for him, he does, but it hurts to witness this. He lightly taps on the younger boy’s shoulder. Nothing. He taps with a little more force and gets the response he was aiming for. Harry’s snores come to a gradual stop. His hand comes up to rub at his face lazily.

Voice groggy and worn, Harry mumbles, “Babe?” He reaches out, stops short when Zayn announces his presence. “Oh.”

Wincing, Zayn takes Harry’s hand to gingerly massage it. The sleepy boy retracts it to cover a yawn.

“Is he here?”

Zayn opens his mouth to lie but realizes there’s no point. What would he say? Louis’ in the toilet? He’s baking some cookies? Mowing the lawn?

He settles with staring at Harry and hopes the boy understands what he can’t confirm. Harry blinks. He pushes the blanket off and stands leisurely to stretch. He looks at the time on the cable box, freezes.

“Our anniversary is over. It’s past midnight,” he states calmly, a little too calmly.

“Haz—”

“And he still hasn’t shown up?”

“No. But listen, I got some people to look a—” he stops midsentence. Harry’s movements are so fast Zayn’s mind takes a moment to process them.

Harry picked up his coat from the floor? Pulled something out and chucked it across the room? A crash followed?

Seconds later, Zayn catches on. Well there goes Louis’ prized—yet ridiculous—Beckham figurine. Good luck to Harry when Louis finds out.

Harry’s yelling now, vulgar language fills the room. Zayn struggles to shut him up. He wasn’t prepared for this. He attempts to wrap his arms around the boy’s middle but gets overpowered. Harry moves away and knocks down the picture frames sitting atop the fireplace. From the hardwood floor, his and Louis’ smiling faces taunt Harry through the cracked glass of the frames.

“Harry, you have to calm down!”

Panting, Harry exclaims, “Don’t fucking tell me that!” He’s picking up one of the broken frames. “Three years. Louis went and threw away three fucking years.” He yanks off some of the glass shards, not caring for the cuts he’s causing on his fingers, and frees the picture from within. He balls it up and turns toward Zayn. “Give me your lighter.”

Zayn shakes his head.

“Your lighter, give it to me.”

The thing is—Zayn quit smoking six months ago. Harry knows this. It must dawn on him during Zayn’s awkward stance because he drops the frame but keeps the balled up picture in hand; heads for the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Zayn doesn’t wait for an answer, follows Harry anyway.

He’s turning the stove on.

Zayn rushes over. “Fucking hell, Harry. Do you want to burn the house down?”

The look that crosses his best friend’s face gives Zayn the chills. Something in those gloomy eyes snaps. Zayn takes the opportunity to shove Harry’s hand away from the stove. The picture falls to the ground, goes unnoticed.

“He’s not coming back,” Harry says in a whisper.

“We don’t know that yet. That’s why I got some of our mates to look for him, was trying to tell you that.”

“What’s the fucking point? They won’t find him! He’s long gone!”

“You never kno—”

“He’s not coming back.”

Harry’s hands come up to fist at the collar of Zayn's shirt, makes him flinch. His eyes go dark as he inches closer to Zayn. Their foreheads are practically touching. Zayn holds his breath, afraid that any sudden movement will cause Harry to back down. The younger boy licks his lips. Zayn’s eyes widen a bit because, is Harry, his best mate, going to kiss him? He doesn’t question it further. Wonders what it would feel like to connect his mouth with Harry’s, has been wondering for a while.

Harry has different thoughts on his mind, however.

“Louis is dead to me.”

When he looks back on it, Zayn isn’t sure who spoke it and who thought it. Those five words could have come from either of their mouths.

~ ~ ~

Harry locks himself in his bedroom after kissing his friend on the cheek. Not on the lips like Zayn thought he would. The fact that he wouldn’t have minded feels bizarre. He’s not supposed to want anything other than friendship.

The shocked boy wanders over to Louis' broken figurine at one end of the living room. He spots the gray object that Harry threw with the force of his rage, the thing that smashed miniature Beckham. His stomach turns as he observes the small box.

“ _No fucking way_.”

He doesn’t open it until he’s sure that Harry won’t be leaving his room anytime soon. Zayn should be more concerned about that than finding out what’s inside the box. Swears he is concerned, but. This will only take a second.

The box opens with a snap. His eyes water without permission. He didn’t know Harry was going to propose, never heard any mention of the idea. The shiny engagement ring explains Harry’s misery. Right when the lad was going to take a huge step, Louis ran and shattered their future together. Zayn is sure it’s as shattered as the figurine and picture frames on the floor. Even _if_  Louis returns, Harry won’t easily get over this. He’s a genuine sweetheart, really, but what Louis’ done is inexcusable. And Zayn wouldn't blame him.

“Harry won’t forgive you, Louis,” Zayn breaths out loud.

He tucks the box into his pocket and silently swears to hold onto it before Harry does something reckless with it, not that he hasn’t already.

~ ~ ~

[May 1st]

_Oh and Haz?_

Harry jolts himself awake.

It’s one of those mornings when you wake up from a dream completely out of air, like you just ran a mile within the confines of your own mattress. In reality, you probably didn’t even move around that much. Your body and mind team up to confuse the hell out of you while you’re unconscious.

He can’t recall the images of the dream exactly, doesn’t care to—knows they involved something painful. They’ll go away in a bit. Harry rolls over in bed and palms at the emptiness beside him. His hand doesn’t find warm skin. The wrinkled sheet he touches is cold, has been cold for a week. Still no Louis.

_Smile, my love._

He buries his face under a pillow and doesn’t smile. Why can’t those final words fuck off? His heart pounds achingly every time they echo in his mind when the house is too quiet. He’s going to have to invest in a surround sound system and leave the TV or radio on whenever he’s alone. Any noise will do. Zayn keeps him company on the days he doesn’t have school commitments. When he’s in class, he texts often, promises to come by with food afterward. Zayn can’t stand leaving Harry alone for too long, afraid he’ll do something stupid.

The stupidest thing Harry has ever done was fall in love so Zayn really shouldn’t worry so much.

After he woke up on the third day since _the disappearance_ —he refuses to call it anything other than that—Zayn informed him how the search party was a bust.

Aiden and Matt checked every place that serves alcohol, places meant for dancing, karaoke, partying; they came up short. Jade thought she spotted the missing boy buying a milkshake but as they got a close glimpse of the guy’s face, she knew she was wrong.  _“Louis’ nose is cute, that guy hardly has a nose."_ Jade told Zayn how she reasoned with Leigh-Anne who was still a bit iffy over the Voldemort look-alike _._ Even Stan, Louis’ oldest friend, had no luck. He and their football mates were out for hours searching parks and gyms. Stan also encouraged Louis’ sister, Lottie, to accompany Jay to check Louis' old schools. All the while, Rita responded late to Zayn’s texts. Despite that, she gathered some people and set out to check random places, focusing mostly on tourist attractions. Lenny, bless his heart, went as far as the next town over. He ran into Rita on his way back into London. They were the last to notify Zayn of their empty findings.

Zayn thanked all of their friends and promised to send them candy baskets. Not before setting out on his own while Harry slept. He went to restaurants and snack shops. At one point he thought he saw Louis’ car at a Nando’s but it was missing a big dent on the tailgate—something of Harry’s doing from the time Louis gave him driving lessons.

Everyone’s efforts were futile, prompting Harry to beg Zayn to halt the mission. No matter where they looked and how open they kept their eyes, Louis was never going to be found. He just had a feeling.

On the fourth day, Harry couldn’t call anymore; Louis' silly voicemail was no longer in service. After one ring, the line would just cut off. 

Harry spent the next few days sobbing and sleeping, daydreamed once about Louis calling, apologizing for putting him through hell. The drowsy boy had invited him back home and the whole kit and caboodle turned out okay. He tries to keep his mind away from daydreaming now. That last one was way too vivid and farfetched.

This morning Harry gets out of bed. Goes as far as the mini fridge to nibble at the fruit salad Zayn left for him the previous night. He can’t even make it to the fridge in the kitchen because embarrassing pictures of Louis are tacked all over it. Harry’s not ready to take them down no matter how much he wants to.

He connects his iPod to some speakers to disrupt the eerie silence and regrets it right away.

_If you ever leave me baby,_

_Leave some morphine at my door_

Bruno Mars’ It Will Rain is the first song in his shuffle list that blasts in his ears.

_'Cause it would take a whole lot of medication,_

_To realize what we used to have,_

_We don’t have it anymore—_

Later, Zayn will find an iPod smashed against the wall, won’t even question it. Add it to the pile of broken shit in Harry’s life. Sweep it up and dispose of it like it never served the right purpose.

His phone, on the other hand, remains in perfect condition. Harry almost convinces himself not to do it but does it anyway: he sends Louis final text message.

 **Don’t come back**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of sad!Harry. For now...
> 
> I'm going to try to update regularly, aiming for once to twice a week. 
> 
> xx cheers


	3. And everything reminds me of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives an unexpected visit. Zayn’s feelings are noticed.

Fine. He’s going to be fine.

Harry doesn’t know how many times he tries to convince himself in the bathroom mirror. And he definitely does not stare at Louis’ razor for longer than necessary, lingering on how much he adored the feel of his boy's stubble. Nor does he sniff Louis’ cologne, accidentally spilling some on the counter. Harry doesn’t bother to clean up the clear liquid. The scent numbs his exhausted nose. One can only withstand so many nights of crying.

Twenty minutes and he has to walk away from the bathroom, the smell making his stomach twist. Today he plans to venture out into the world for what feels like the first time in months and he’d prefer to not do it on a weak stomach.

Zayn is coming over for dinner in a couple of hours, until then, Harry’s not allowed in the kitchen. As if he even has the heart to cook for a table of one. This is why Harry settles with the thought of having lunch out in broad daylight, a distraction until Zayn arrives. Maybe he’ll take the half-hour walk up the street to Nando’s and find a nice picnic table at the park on his way back.

It actually hurts to be out in the sunlight, he discovers. There isn’t unbareable heat. Yet, Harry finds himself squinting at the severe brightness. He wonders how the sky can be so bright while his mind has been stuck in a gloomy state.

He makes it as far as the Tesco on the next block over. The sun's intensity was beginning to make his eyes water. He’ll just run in for a sandwich and go back home without exchanging a single word with anyone. As for the picnic at the park, it can wait for another day when he’s certain he won’t recall the time Louis pushed him off a swing. Harry still has the small scar on his left knee.

His anxiety heightens once he makes it to the grocery store. What would he do if he ran into someone who knows him and Louis? Harry wouldn’t know what to say, or what to make up.

Luck is on his side, however, because Tesco is nearly empty aside from a group of elderly women and some delinquent preteens in the midst of skipping school. He lets go of the breath he wasn’t aware was building up deep within his chest.

Harry’s heart was set on a turkey and provolone sandwich but once he finds himself in the refrigerated section, he abandons the mission. There was a shelf stacked with dozens of egg salad sanwiches.

He settles for an unhealthy choice of crisps and frozen pizza. Zayn will have to forgive him if he uses the oven. Which he probably will since frozen pizza is not the business.

At the checkout line, Harry practically drops his lunch to pull out his phone. Whenever he feels it vibrate, he assumes it could be notifying him of the text he’s been waiting for. When he sees that it’s from his sister, his eyes roll up to his skull.

**_I know about Lou, Zayn told me._ **

Of fucking course he did. Zayn’s had a thing for Harry's older sister for years. He keeps Gemma well-informed of mostly everything that goes on in Harry’s life. She lives far, there’s no better way for her to keep up.

Harry chooses to ignore the message. It takes brain power to plan his revenge on Zayn for having a big mouth. At this point, Harry doesn’t want anyone else to know about the disappearance. Only Stan and the Tomlinson’s are completely informed. Zayn’s search party was never told if their efforts were pointless or not but they did figure out that Louis' gone when he wasn't showing up to their gatherings. Zayn kept the fact to himself out of respect, knowing they'd put two and two together on their own. But of course he opened his mouth to worry Harry’s only existing family member.

His phone buzzes again as he moves up a spot in line, right behind the last elderly woman belonging to a church group. Harry’s seen them around but thankfully they don’t know him well enough to strike up conversation.

**_Why didn’t you tell me anything? I’m worried, baby brother. X_ **

Harry frowns. He doesn't want her to worry. Gemma already has enough on her plate with her new job as Junior Editor at _Marmalade_ magazine. Or so, Zayn updated him the other night. The cashier interrupts Harry’s thoughts momentarily. He hadn’t noticed it was his turn, the church woman long gone.

Rushing out of Tesco with his bagged goodies, Harry runs a shaky hand through his unruly curls. The cashier asked if he wanted to donate to a charity that Louis once volunteered for.

But this is getting fucking ridiculous. How is he supposed to get on with his life if so many random things remind him of a certain blue-eyed demon?

Gemma sends another message.

**_I’m coming over. x_**

He loves his sister, a lot, but today he’s just not in the mood. So he finally types out a reply after returning home and shutting the blinds.

**Don't, I’m working tonight**

“Well this setting is morbid, but I guess it will do,” a voice says from behind Harry.

He jumps, dropping his bag of groceries.

“Gem? What the—? What are you doing here? I—”

His sister envelopes him in a tight hug. Eventually Harry gives in and returns the embrace. Gemma pulls back to peer up at him.

“You look like a right mess.”

Her honesty is laced with concern. Harry remains silent, afraid the tightness in his chest will somehow produce tears in his eyes. He scrambles for a change of subject.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Shouldn’t _you_?” Gemma retorts. She doesn’t like the fact that Harry’s already trying to get rid of her. Besides, she knows he’s on temporary sick-leave, thanks to her informant.

“My shift starts soon, actually. You shouldn’t have driven all the way over here.”

“Don’t lie; you’ve always been bloody terrible at it.”

Harry huffs. "How did you even get in?"

"Zayn gave me a spare key last time we hung out."

"I'm going to kill him."

She laughs, picking up the Tesco bag off the floor to examine it. His sister shakes her head. “Come on, let’s make you some real food.”

~ ~ ~

Gemma can’t seem to take a hint that Harry wants to be alone. Or so, he thinks he prefers his own company. Truth is, he doesn’t, not really. He’s not accustomed to waking alone, eating alone, watching TV alone, and the likes of it all. His sister is chatty but all he can concentrate on is holding the tears that are still threatening to spill out. It’s becoming a damn personality trait of his labeled under “Cries Whenever.”

“So are you going to at least pretend my spaghetti tastes authentically Italian?”

Harry stares at the girl sitting across from him. Gemma’s features, soft and feminine but similar to his, twist with discomfort. Harry hasn’t even picked up his fork, hasn’t said a word in a while. He picks a stray noodle and slurps it up. She smiles sadly because it’s unlike for her brother to eat that way.

“Harry,” she starts, reaching a hand out to grasp his. “You can let out whatever it is you’re holding in. It’s just me.”

He sips at his drink and closes his eyes. He counts to ten like Zayn advised he should whenever he’s about to talk about the disappearance. It helps sometimes.

“You already know everything, thanks to Zayn, so there’s not much for me to say,” his tone is icy. 

“He only gave me the cliff notes version.”

For some reason _that_ makes Harry laugh. The first time in weeks. Zayn never holds back during his long conversations with Gemma. This is something different.

Gemma must have read the thought on his face because she grins. “He hardly told me anything because he thought it would be a good incentive to get me out here. It worked because here I am, you see?” She pats Harry’s hand.

The younger boy shifts in his seat. “You just got a higher position at work, why would you skip out? Can't that count against you?”

“Let’s not worry about that. I just need to know… Are you okay?”

Harry’s crying before she’s even finished phrasing her question. It was the thought that his older sister went as far as jeopardizing her job just to see him. Someone, besides Zayn, cares enough about his well-being to drop in and see how he’s doing.

“I didn’t mean to—oh gosh, I’m sorry. Here!” Gemma hands him a napkin.

She’s still waiting for his response. Harry dives right in between sobs.

“No, I'm _not_. I thought I was in love with the right person.”

~ ~ ~

“But you still love him and that’s okay,” Gemma concludes once Harry’s done with his story. She looks pained but at a bit ease that he’s no longer crying.

“He’s not easy to get over,” Harry whispers. He towel dries the pot his sister used to steamed the pasta that he managed to gobble up.

Gemma scrubs at the plate she ate on and huffs. “It’s possible.”

Harry stiffens.

“You’re not actually planning on continuing this way, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’re heartbroken and right now it feels like you aren’t meant to be happy but that’s not entirely true. If it were, you wouldn’t have ever been with Louis in the first place.”

Her brother watches as she rinses the final dish in the sink with a look of disbelief.

“You ate ice cream on my bed after Nick broke up with you. Three weeks and almost a life supply of rocky road later, you bounced back the day you met—”

“Are you suggesting I should go work for another carnival in the hopes that another bloke will jump into my life and fill the hole Louis left? If so...”

Harry drops the dish towel and heads to the fridge. Gemma watches with wide eyes as he gathers the pictures of Louis that are still tacked on with magnets and dumps them into a bin.

“I’ll prepare the house right now. Wouldn’t want the next guy to think I’m still not over my ex!” Harry yells.

He increases his pace over to the bathroom with Gemma hot on his heels.

“Harry, hold on! I wasn't—”

He throws the door open and holds up a bottle of cologne. “This shouldn’t be here! The new guy must not smell like Louis.” Harry unscrews the expensive bottle by Armani and empties it into the sink. “Smell that? It’s called, ‘I’m So Over My Ex’.”

Gemma takes the bottle away from him and sets it down, sensing he was about to smash it. “What’s wrong with you? You were fine moments ago,” she practically shrieks. This is something completely new to her. Somewhere inside this boy, a switch was flipped on.

Harry’s eyes darken as he shoves past his frightened sister. He makes it to his bedroom despite Gemma’s effort to cling onto him. He gets to the closet and yanks out articles of clothing. Shirts and other items fly over his shoulder and scatter around the room. A very stuffy room, Gemma notes.

She catches a pair of pants traveling in her direction. They’re of a color Harry would never wear: red.

“Don’t need any of these anymore! Fresh meat coming through!” Harry yells louder this time. He’s going nuts and Gemma is at a loss for words. She yanks on his wrist and forces him to turn to face her. Harry’s eyes are wild, his bottom lip trembling through his rage. She rubs a circle over the back of his hand. Harry lashes out at a nearby lamp. It crashes to the floor and joins Louis’ clothes. Gemma flinches and steps away from the cracked pieces. Harry lowers his voice. “I don’t plan to move on that easily.”

“Hello?” Zayn calls from the living room. “It smells like a home cooked meal, what did I say about—”

“Zayn!” Gemma shouts, briefly startling Harry. After doing all of the screaming, someone else’s raised voice sounds foreign to him.

“Gem? I didn’t know you were here! I thought I recognized your car out front...” Zayn appears at the doorway with a huge grin plastered on his face, the bastard. He’s about to run over to the girl in his line of sight when he takes in the scene in front of him. He identifies the striped shirts and colored pants spread around the floor as Louis' clothes, doesn’t miss the broken lamp near Harry’s feet, nor the relieved expression of the girl cowering away from her brother. “What happened?” Zayn doesn’t know why he bothers to ask, he figured it out the moment he took in Harry’s tensed jaw and furrowed brows. It’s the hint he gets when Harry is either on the edge or on his way back to normalcy.

“Nothing, Zayn. Everything is wonderful,” Harry snaps. His jaw muscle unclenches and his brows smooth over to their natural place. He waits for Zayn to step aside and exits the room.

“You have to stop him before he does something crazier!” Gemma says, rushing forward.

Zayn shakes his head. “He’s done. See?” He gestures to the living room where Harry is now lounging on the couch with a remote in hand.

Gemma’s apprehension is evident on her face. “I’ve never… What was that?” she asks quietly. “Or, _who_ was that?”

Zayn matches her volume. “He’s still Harry.” He glances over at his best friend who is flipping through channels every other second, hardly paying attention to the scenes flashing by. Gemma turns a blind eye at the look of Zayn’s face as he observes her brother. It’s nothing but tender. Zayn seems to snap out of it and ushers her further into the bedroom and away from the door. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention this to you before. I guess I should have warned you. Harry,” he scratches the back of his neck, “he gets like that sometimes but you don’t have to worry. He only breaks things or throws them around as you just witnessed, doesn’t actually hurt himself or anyone.”

“He threw away the photos that were tacked on the fridge.”

Zayn chuckles. “That’s the last of it, then.”

“What?” Gemma’s overly confused about everything that just occurred and she isn’t appreciating Zayn finding humor in the situation.

“Whenever he gets like that, he gets rid of one or two things. A picture here, a breakable object there. Those photos were the last ones he had of Louis. The clothes you see? I assure you they won’t be here later, I clean up after Harry and he knows I throw away whatever I find on the floor.”

Gemma relaxes slowly, beginning to understand that Harry’s healing process involves ridding the house of memories. “He also dumped some cologne down the sink.”

Zayn smirks. “Good, I hated that smell.”

She raises an eyebrow, tilts her head to the side to study the boy she’s become very fond of over time. He talks to her more than Harry does. It’s always been that way. Harry’s always teasing them, asking when they’re going to finally get together. But Gemma doesn’t see Zayn in that way and now she’s realizing that Zayn reciprocates those platonic feelings. She thinks of the way he was observing her brother, like he was really enjoying the view. And now, that smirk. That goddamn smirk at the knowledge that he would no longer have to endure the Louis-smell.

“Ohmygosh.”

“You hated it too? I knew I wasn’t the only—”

“You’re in love with him.”

Zayn blinks several times as if there’s a sandstorm going on around them. He chokes on nothing, obviously, because there aren’t actual sand particles whirling around in the air. After clearing his throat, he squawks, “Wha—”

“Don’t even try to deny it, Malik. Your reaction, just then, proved my theory.”

He shakes his head many times. “You’re forgetting that he’s my best mate.”

“I know what I saw. It’s sad that you’re actually trying to convince me otherwise.” She caresses his cheek with a warm hand. “Zayn.”

He avoids her gaze, bottom lip between his teeth. Gemma wasn’t in need of a confirmation but that, right there, gives him away completely.

“This doesn’t change anything for me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You’re really good at guilt-tripping me into spilling secrets,” he sighs heavily. “No, I’m not _in love_ with Harry. But…” Zayn hesitates to continue because of her frown. “I swear I’m telling the truth. I just… He’s really great and it took me forever to realize that I wouldn’t mind kissing him, okay? Happy?”

Gemma nods. She is more than happy, actually, but she doesn’t want to make her friend uncomfortable by letting him know.

Instead, Harry’s the uncomfortable one as he backs away from his bedroom stealthily. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He was going to make sure Zayn wasn’t trying to shag his sister on his bed because that would definitely be tantrum-worthy. The shock of hearing Zayn admit something so… so _strange_ halts Harry’s mission to cockblock. He doesn’t stop back tracking his steps even when he’s at the front door, out before either of them notice.


	4. So many things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ribs and other things get heated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me.   
> :p

Gemma is giggling with a hand placed over her stomach, knees slightly bent. Every time she straightens up and sees the look on Zayn’s face, she doubles over and continues her abdominal workout.

“You said this wouldn’t change anything,” Zayn says, annoyed. She continues laughing anyway as he glares. If he could shut her up with a kiss, he would. But now that she knows about Harry…

He wants to hide under Harry’s bed or behind the shower curtain until Gemma stops his retreating figure with the clearing of her throat. “I’m laughing at myself, you dolt. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out. It was _so_ obvious!”

“How the hell was it obvious? I definitely did nothing to make it so!” he declares incredulously, growing self-conscious by the second.

She clicks her tongue. “You’re not exactly subtle when the only subject we discuss is my brother. It’s okay though,” she adds quickly before Zayn has a chance to interrupt, “Whatever floats your boat, kiddo.”

He crosses his arms. “He’s not the only thing I talk about.”

“Okay, fine, he’s usually the second thing you talk about, right after the line of hair products you use on your ridiculous quiff.”

Zayn threatens to roll her down a hill. She simply waves him off, moving to peer out Harry’s bedroom window. It’s closed. She opens it and exhales. “No wonder it’s so stuffy in here.” Zayn joins her and they stare at a flock of birds flying South. “I said something that triggered Harry’s aggression and I’m barely pinpointing it,” she admits as she twirls a strand of hair around a finger.

Zayn’s attention is suddenly on the floor as he fiddles with his thumbs, feeling small beneath Gemma’s intense eyes. She turns back to the birds.

“I hinted—in different words—that he should move on.”

He stills, thumbs suspending their nervous twitch. “I bet he didn’t take that well.”

“Not at all but I meant it. I honestly think he needs to move on. He can’t sit around and wait for Louis to show up. Who knows where that twat is and what he’s doing at this moment. All I know is that he sure wasn’t being considerate when he decided to leave and Harry shouldn’t be considerate of him either. Screw the memories. Screw everything. My brother deserves a lot better than that.”

She’s angry. Zayn would know this with or without the change of pitch in Gemma’s voice. He feels the exact same way, swears he’ll kill Louis if he ever sees him again. But for some fucking reason, he can’t bring himself to verbally bash the bloke. Not yet. Louis is his friend after all. Or was? “Haz is still in shock, Gem. It’s going to take him time to get over that feeling. We can’t rush him through it. He doesn’t need that pressure.”

“Well, yeah, we should give him time,” she concedes sadly, “but what I’m trying to get at, after what you’ve told me, is that if Harry’s ever going to move on, it should be with someone worth his while.”

Zayn backs away slowly; feeling like the room is spinning the wrong way.

“It should be you, Zayn.”

“What?”

She groans in frustration. “Work with me here!” He shushes her, remembering that Harry is just down the hall. “I know you want a lot more than a kiss, I’m not new to this stuff. You can help him forget. Make new memories.”

Zayn ducks his head. She thinks he hasn’t thought of that, like it hasn’t been on his mind this whole time. Hearing the idea outside of his head reinforces his initial fears. Harry wouldn’t want him, not like that. He had plans to marry Louis. Zayn doesn’t fall anywhere near that area of influence. But the look on Gemma’s face—with her lips puckered and her big, beseeching eyes peering hopefully into Zayn’s—convince him otherwise.

“I could _try_ but it would never work.”

She claps her hands. “As long as you _try_. I just want him to be happy. That outburst I witnessed is something I’ve never seen him do and it scared me shitless. You said he never hurts himself when he gets like that but I don’t want to wait for the day he’s pushed too far.”

Zayn silently agrees. He goes to check on Harry but the guy is no longer on the seat he was previously occupying. The remote is on the ground, the TV still flickering with colors and strangers.

~ ~ ~

He’s not paying much attention to where he’s going. His body accepts the pace in which its legs are traveling, practically sprinting. Huntington Park crosses his path before he knows it. He’d avoided it earlier but maybe it won’t be so bad. He’ll keep his eyes on the grass, won’t even think about those cursed swings or the last picnic that almost got them fined for fondling each other in public.

Harry refuses to think about the meaning of the conversation he overheard. It was way too soon. He can barely handle the disappearance, let alone the strange news that Zayn is gay. Because he is, right? After so many years of knowing each other, Harry’s barely recognizing that Zayn has never been with a girl. Not romantically. He’s not even sure if physically. After all this time, Harry was certain that Zayn was saving himself for Gemma or some cute shit like that.

But, what now? Is Harry supposed to act like he didn’t hear Zayn’s secret? Is he supposed to talk to him about it? Harry can’t imagine that conversation. Not only would it be awkward, it would generally suck. Best friends aren’t supposed to fall in love with each other. The notion that Zayn might be in love with him causes his heart to beat faster. He must not allow it. Harry closes his eyes briefly, a bad idea because he doesn’t see the ball rolling towards him. He trips and stumbles, miraculously managing to stay afoot.

“Are you going to give it back, or what?” a guy yells.

Harry frowns. He knows that voice but the identity of the stranger does not register quickly enough. He kicks the ball back to the group it came from, continuing down the same path he was running on.

The guy that addressed him calls out, “Why don’t you join us, Styles?”

“Greg?” How did it not click sooner? He’s just as tall and frustratingly handsome as Harry remembers.

“Join us,” Greg repeats, eyebrows raised. “I’m sure Lou taught you a thing or two on how to kick a football properly.”

Harry cracks his knuckles. Yeah, _Louis_ taught him a lot of useful skills but he’s not about to share them with this loser.

“Come on, grow a pair, Styles. You owe me a rematch.”

“I owe you nothing so fuck you.”

His tone only draws Greg near, too close for Harry’s comfort.

Greg lowers his voice dramatically. “You owe me a guy like him.”

Harry doesn’t ask who he’s referring to because it’s obvious. “You’re still not fucking over it? You didn’t even appreciate Louis when you had him so shut your mouth.”

“How do you know that? Did Louis tell you? I bet he didn’t tell you about the first time we fucked—”

Greg staggers. Harry pulls back his fist and cradles it to his chest. It aches but probably not as badly as Greg’s nose. Blood is dripping everywhere and Harry is getting knocked down by a bunch of footballers before he knows it.

~ ~ ~

“Call him!”

“He left his phone here!” Zayn shakes his head in disapproval. “Where do you think he went off to?”

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t think he heard us, do you?”

“I hope not!”

Zayn can’t find a reason why Gemma’s responses are starting to really bug him. With his bipolar streak as of late, who knows what Harry could be up to and she’s being of no use with her budding panic.

“Let’s go, he shouldn’t be too far.”

They set out together. Zayn links his hand with Gemma’s and squeezes it to reassure her that everything will be all right. As they travel towards Nando’s (Zayn hopes Harry got hungry and nostalgic) they spot a group of guys rough housing about at the park. Gemma thinks they should ignore it when Zayn refuses to budge.

“That doesn’t look friendly,” he points out, spotting a figure on the ground.

“That’s not our business. And I really doubt the two of us can take on the dozen of them.”

“I only see half of that.”

“That’s not the point—”

She stops talking abruptly when Zayn drops her hand to cross the street at a run. He barely avoids getting hit by a speeding jeep.

“Zayn!”

He motions for her to stay in place and proceeds to where the group is pounding furiously at the figure curled up on the grass. One of the assaulters looks up as Zayn pulls a second guy away from the victim. Another stops his actions as well, throwing a fist Zayn’s way but the latter dodges it and shoves him away. Two other thugs continue beating on the victim as a guy Zayn hadn’t noticed, attempts to grab their attention. He’s the tallest out of all of them and is surprisingly working to stop his companions. Zayn tries to do the same but is held back by the first one who noticed him approach. The two that are still beating the poor guy on the ground grunt some kind of a warning.

“Alright, alright, stop now. Damn!” The ringleader of the group, the one who was trying to get their attention, yells with authority. Everyone freezes, especially Zayn when he sees the blood staining the face he knows.

“Greg.”

The guy clears his throat and shoves his friends into another direction. One of them tries to hit Zayn but Greg holds him back.

It dawns on Zayn that he should be assisting the victim instead of narrowing his eyes at the beast in front of him. Greg wipes at the bloody mess that is his face. His jaw has a nervous spasm going on. It increases when he nervously glances down at Harry.

Wait.

“Harry!” Zayn kneels down beside him. Harry groans and rolls over onto his side. He thinks he’s still under attack. Zayn sees red, a blaringly solid shade of fury. Greg is already backing away slowly as Zayn shoots up. “Greg, you fucking coward. Six against one? Really?!”

The guy in question raises his hands guiltily. “I didn’t tell them to do it.” He points behind him. “But Harry started it, he punched me in the fucking nose. It’s probably broken!”

“Serves you right, bitch.” Zayn turns back to Harry. “Haz, are you okay?”

Harry whimpers in response and sits up slowly. Zayn helps him to his feet, wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle protectively.

“I’m—” Greg starts but gets cut off by Zayn.

“Go to hell. No wonder Louis left you.”

Harry breaks away from Zayn’s hold. Those words are way too close to home even if they weren’t directed at him. His eyes water and he wipes at them with the sleeve of his shirt. Zayn hasn’t realized what he said, too caught up in glaring menacingly at Greg. The guy is taller than them but at the moment, he looks tiny, like a wounded puppy.

Zayn suddenly remembers that Gemma is waiting for them across the street and when he looks over at her, he catches her paralyzed expression.

“Let’s go, Haz,” Zayn whispers, ushering Harry towards his awaiting sister. “Gem’s frightened.”

“No.”

Zayn’s eyes widen, confusion crossing his features.

“I don’t need your help,” Harry grounds out.

He limps away and heads towards Gemma on his own. Zayn watches him go; hurt that Harry refused his assistance. At least he accepts Gemma’s. They head back to Harry’s house. Zayn turns to Greg who hasn’t moved. “You’re fucking pathetic,” Zayn shouts, “You and those friends of yours. Watch the type of people you associate yourself with, it’s sad, really.”

“What do you know about these guys? All you’ve ever done is follow Harry around, like a lost animal. Louis said it himself,” Greg blurts out and regret is evident on his face within seconds.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, I—”

“You already said it so you might as well continue. Go ahead; let’s see what lies you can fabricate.”

“I’m not lying! I don’t know why I’m telling you this but Louis came to see me some weeks ago.”

The confession makes Zayn’s temperament revolutionize. The adrenaline he used to break up the fight, transforms into anxiety. “How many weeks exactly? Because last time we talked, you said you hadn’t heard from him in a long time.”

Greg bites his lip. “It was before you called me. I think it was the week he left for Bristol.”

Then right before the disappearance.

“Yeah? And? You lied, but why?”

“He uh…” Greg shrugs. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything... He was worried about leaving Harry on his own and he didn’t know who to go to—to talk about it with—so he came to me.”

“And why the hell would he do that? You guys didn’t remain friends after your break up.”

“Ouch. I know that, but I was always a good listener and Louis admired that.”

Zayn snorts.

“I’m serious!”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with me following Harry around? Which is not true, by the way.”

“Seriously? You’re going to deny it? Whatever, it’s not like I care. Lou does, though. He knows you have feelings for Harry. It’s pretty fucking apparent all the way from space.”

So, not only Gemma believes it, but this asshole does as well? Zayn wants to strangle someone.

“He came to see me because he thought you were going to take advantage of his absence.”

And to think, Zayn has been holding back his anger with Louis because they were so called _friends_.

“He felt threatened by me?”

Greg nods. “Something like that.”

Zayn has one last question. He’d normally have a lot more but he needs to check up on Harry soon to make sure he’s okay.

“Do you know where Louis is?”

The taller man does not skip a beat. His brows furrow. “Right now? No. We haven’t talked since he vented about you.” Zayn grunts, Greg continues, “That’s the last time I heard from him. It’s hard to admit, but, Louis told me it would be the last time. I’ve been respecting his wish.”

Zayn just stares at the guy Louis kicked to the curb. At first Zayn wasn’t willing to trust Greg, wasn’t going to acknowledge any part of this uncanny conversation. However, the guy’s eyes have been as sincere as his words seem to be. It’s not like the time they talked on the phone because in person, Zayn’s been able to study his body language and decipher his honesty.

He really should be heading back to Harry’s now. It takes him a lot of effort to begin stepping away from Greg. He does nothing to stop Zayn. Just asks, “Is something wrong with Louis?” Zayn swallows the knot in his throat as he keeps distancing himself. “Don’t tell me he’s been gone since—”

“The day I called you.”

Greg’s eyes flash in alarm. “Shit, no wonder Harry punched me.”

~ ~ ~

There’s an icepack over Harry’s left eye and a heating pad on his ribs. Gemma holds the objects in place. The guys that ganged up on Harry did not have a lot of time to do much damage thanks to Zayn’s interference. Either way, his body is still hurting and bruises are beginning to bloom across his skin. Zayn observes the siblings as they argue over Gemma hovering too much. She insists Harry should go see a doctor but he refuses to go anywhere.

“Please help me convince him,” she begs Zayn.

He sighs. “Haz, she’s right. We need to make sure you’re not internally bleeding. That can get very dangerous.”

Harry shakes his head, eyes fixed on the floor. Zayn figures he’s still angry with him but isn’t sure why.

“Fuck this,” Zayn mutters.

“Where are you going?”

Zayn shrugs at Gemma, not measuring the bitterness in his response. “Home? Harry’s in one of his moods again so I guess there’s no point in staying.”

“Wait,” Harry croaks.

The other two hold their breaths as Harry seemingly mulls something over in his head. Zayn’s hand is on the doorknob and he’s going to turn it when Harry whispers something to Gemma. She excuses herself and goes out the way Zayn was going to exit.

“There’s no more milk, I’ll go to Tesco’s,” she says to no one in particular.

As soon as his sister is gone, Harry begins, “Zayn I—”

But Zayn isn’t willing to hear what he has to say. Not after the stuff he learned at the park or the way Harry’s been treating him.

“You need to cut the crap. Louis’ gone. He’s not coming back,” Zayn basically shouts. Harry blinks back tears. “He kept something from you. You know what it was?”

Harry shakes his head slowly, his eyes impossibly wide.

“He went to see Greg before Bristol happened.”

“Are you seri—”

“He was afraid that during his trip, I would…”

Zayn cuts himself off. _Shit_. He can’t say it because of how true it may or may not be. He’s not even sure.

“You would what? Tell me.”

“He was iffy over your loyalty, okay?”

Harry removes his icepack, revealing a swollen, blood-shot eye. His nostrils flare. “My loyalty? Or do you mean your friendship?” He hobbles over to Zayn, also setting down the heating pad.

“What are you going on about?”

“You want to know how I ended up at the park?” Harry screeches, not waiting for an answer. “I heard what you said! About me…” _About wanting to kiss me_ …

They were five feet away from each other, maybe more. By now, there’s no more distance between them, both having gravitated to one another. Their lips are connecting while their common sense disconnects itself. Their insides are on fire. Zayn’s on his knees without any instructions having been spoken. Harry groans as Zayn frees him from the restraint in his pants. Zayn takes care of his throbbing length while Harry closes his eyes and tries to not murmur Louis’ name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hiding under a rock right about now. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> xx cheers!
> 
> :)


	5. I shouldn't have missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wants something. Zayn gives it to him.

Zayn stirs with a crick in his neck and a stream of sunlight blinding him. He sits up in bed and moves his head in a slow circle until he hears a crack, wishes Gemma would have left the curtains closed the day before. He lies back down to tug the blanket over his bare waist.

Since when does he sleep naked? And why is he waking up in Harry’s room?

Confusion is obviously the first sensation crossing his mind, followed by relief when he apprehends that last night was not part of his dreams. He turns onto his side, though a bit sore, and finds the sleeping form of his best friend. Lips are slightly parted and cheeks are tinted pink. Harry is an amazing sight to see while he’s awake. But asleep, it’s a whole other spectacle. Zayn feels his heart thump as he places a hand on Harry’s shoulder and kisses his full lips softly. Harry mumbles incoherently at the contact.

Zayn moves his hand down Harry’s exposed arm, gingerly linking their fingers together.

The other pouts. “Lou, I’m trying to sleep here.”

That’s what Zayn was afraid of. That Harry would forget what they did, confuse Zayn with Louis.

 _Don’t open your eyes because this will all be over as soon as you do_ , Zayn wants to shout.

In all honestly, he only wanted a kiss. _One_. It turned into much more when _Harry_ coerced him into taking things further. Zayn’s at fault, as well, for letting it go that way. It’s not like he was forced to get down on his knees in the middle of the living room. They didn’t even bother locking the front door to keep Gemma out (she has her own key, anyway). Fortunately, she never actually returned with the milk she claimed she was going to buy.

Harry hums when Zayn gives his fingers a light squeeze. Zayn had never been with anyone—especially not with a guy—until last night. He wants to throw up, not because of _that_ , but over the awareness that Harry took his virginity. None of it should have happened; he’s regretting the heat of the moment already. It meant too much for him. He rolls out of bed in search of his clothes.

Harry opens his eyes at that moment and they flash alarmingly around the room, watching as Zayn pulls on a pair of briefs. “This is…” Harry bites his lip and covers his face with a pillow.

 _This is all wrong_ ; Zayn finishes the rest of the sentence in his head and makes a mental note to erase it later. He isn’t Louis and Harry is not at the capacity to look past that just yet. Who knows if ever? Zayn can tell by the other’s panicked expression how worried he is about what they did, like he cheated or something. And maybe it counts, maybe it doesn’t.

“Please don’t say anything right now, I want to be able to leave this room with dignity,” Zayn comes close to sobbing as he shoves a discarded pair of pants up his legs. He can’t look at the boy, just bends down to pick up his shirt to cover his flushed skin. Now that he’s fully dressed, he can look at Harry. Nope, never mind, the lad is still lying there stark naked.

“This wasn’t your first time, was it?” Harry is asking because he’s an idiot.

The room gets really quiet, almost as if they’ve both lost their ability to make any sort of noise. Harry crawls out of bed and trips over a shoe, breaking that silence.

Zayn is instantaneously there to steady him, his honey-colored eyes bore into Harry’s. “Put some clothes on,” he instructs roughly. Harry obliges, throwing on a pair of trainers and a white V-neck. Zayn figures he’s ready to talk now that he doesn’t have to force his eyes to not linger down Harry’s fit body. “If you’re thinking last night was a mistake, Haz, I’d have to disagree.”  

This isn’t what Harry was expecting to hear but he keeps his mouth shut and lets Zayn continue.

“I think we both needed a little release, don’t you?” Zayn takes a deep breath. “We could be good for each other, Harry.”

“Are you—”

Zayn interrupts by raising a hand. “I want you to be happy. You know that, right? I care about you and I hate seeing you moping around because of… because of Louis. I know I’m nowhere near his level but I promise I can make you happy. If you let me, I can help you forget him.”

Harry stares silently at the pair of sparkling eyes that haven’t blinked once. They’re filling with tears at Harry’s expense. He’s not sure when Zayn became interested in him. Where is that desire coming from? His eyes don’t hold the answer, just tears, and Harry isn’t willing to figure it out.

“D-do you want to f-forget him?” Zayn probes, shy and tentative. He clenches and unclenches his hands as he waits. Noting how lost Harry looks and feels, he takes it as a sign that his suggestion wasn’t made at the right time. “This was stupid, crazy even. I knew that after one night, you weren’t going to want me.”

“Zayn, that’s not fair.”

“How it is, innit?”

Images of their heated kisses and wandering hands invade Harry’s thoughts.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’ll be okay, Haz, don’t worry about me.”

“No,” Harry says, taking Zayn’s face in his hands. “You’re my best friend and last night was—”

“A mistake. I get it, don’t need to reiterate.”

“Actually, I was going to say that it was amazing.”

Zayn’s mouth is agape. He moves out of Harry’s gentle hold, can’t believe Harry can stoop so low to avoid hurting his feelings.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Zayn. I agree that we both needed the release. In the past three years, I’ve never gone that long without…” His face gets hot and the other nods quickly, comprehending what he’s trying to say. “Maybe that’s why I’ve been having random outbursts? But I don’t want them to occur anymore.”

“So you want me for the sex?” Zayn shrieks. He drags his fingers through his hair, worsening his bedhead. Laughter almost forms in his mouth. “That’s what you want?”

Neither of them makes a sound. Feeling quite foolish, Zayn shakes his head feverously. Walking away is the best thing to do, to save himself from the embarrassment of wanting something innocent while Harry is seeking sexual pleasure.

He’s down the hall with his heart thrashing wildly from within.

Harry remains in his bedroom, stood in the same spot. He observes himself in the vanity mirror across from him. It looks like he finally got more sleep than he has in over a month. His black eye from the day before is still there—a reminder of the shit that Louis has gotten him into even without being present. At least his eyes look a lot more awake.

“ _He’s not coming back_ ,” Zayn stated yesterday. He was actually repeating Harry’s own words, having said them back in April. Today, Harry assents. It’s been two months, basically. If he hasn’t heard from Louis this long, it must be for a darn good reason. Accepting that without breaking down, Harry resolves that he can do something else.

“Zayn!” he yells.

The boy stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn around. He’s at the front door, like yesterday, on the edge of leaving but willing to give Harry a chance to control the situation. He waits as footsteps approach him from behind.

“I do want something from you but it’s not what you think.” Harry steadies himself before urging Zayn away from the door and face-to-face with him. “I want you to help me forget him. I believe you can do that.”

Harry’s words throw Zayn off his own axis. Butterflies burst in his stomach. They’re inches apart. This time they don’t rush into anything. They take their time. That’s what Harry deserves and that’s what Zayn will give him.

~ ~ ~

[ **One Year Later – June** ]

“Harry Styles, smile right or I’ll end you.”

“I _am_ smiling!”

“You’re smiling like there’s something stuck up your—”

“Aiden, really?”

“What? I’m just trying to help.”

“I got this,” Gemma laughs. She snaps the picture, finally, and reviews it before allowing her brother and his boyfriend to relax their faces. “Now that’s a lovely one. Was that so hard?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“No thanks, Zayn.”

The four of them crowd around Gemma’s professional camera to see the other pictures she took. They laugh at Harry and Zayn’s uncomfortable smiles. They aren’t cut out for posing, let alone holding a smile while Aiden was making faces at them behind Gemma’s back.

“You guys are horrible models. Thank goodness these aren’t getting published.”

“Then what the hell are they for?” Harry grumbles. He was told that they were going to be included in the editorial of next month’s _Marmalade_ magazine.

“Mypersonalcollection,” Gemma confesses without pause, clutching the Canon camera to her chest. “And no, you’re not deleting any of these.”

Harry initiates a tickle war to get the camera from her but Zayn intercepts him. He’s always coming to Gemma’s rescue and Harry sort of hates it. Zayn knows this and placates his boyfriend’s pout with a kiss. “Leave your sister alone.”

“She started it,” he whines.

Aiden pretends to retch into a nearby flower pot. “You guys are cute but come on! Some of us don’t need proof.”

“You shouldn’t be talking.” Zayn points. “The other day, you and Jade sucked face in front of us and we didn’t say anything.”

Aiden’s ears turn pink. He squeezes his lips to keep from smiling.

“Aiden _and_ Jade?” Gemma questions in disbelief. “Didn’t Matt and Leigh-Anne hook up, too? Christ! Am I the only one who’s still alone?”

“Keep it that way,” Harry says. He can’t stand the thought of his sister being with someone. It was hard enough when he thought Zayn was interested in her. Oh boy, he was so wrong about that.

He and Zayn have gone steady together in the last year. Zayn’s been patient. They haven’t even said three specific words yet—not in the way a happy couple should. But the guy understands. That fact doesn’t stop him from pleasing Harry in all the best ways possible. Harry looks at him and feels comfort, reassurance, safety… love. There’s definitely a lot of that.

Today’s their anniversary but nobody has addressed it. They’re going out for dinner as a group, which is why Gemma and Aiden are at their house. Jade, Matt, and the rest of the crew are meeting up with them later. None of them labeled the reason for tonight’s celebration. It went unspoken because they all know that Harry is nervous about the prospect of an anniversary. He’s a lot stronger than he was at the start of his and Zayn’s relationship but he’s not quite there yet.

Sometimes, when he allows himself, he still misses Louis. He shouldn’t, he knows that. It’s not fair to Zayn. But the disappearance never stopped affecting Harry and the mystery behind it overwhelms him to this day. He can’t even believe that he made it through April 24th, what could have been their fourth anniversary.

~ ~ ~

[ **Two Months Ago** ]

The sky was beautiful, birds were chirping and angels might as well have been singing. It was a perfect start to the day. Harry and Zayn had lunch at a little diner in the center of town, hand in hand, using their left ones to eat. Harry couldn’t stop smiling at the other fondly. Their waitress, Jessy, gave them a complimentary ice cream sundae on the house. After paying for their meal, Zayn excused himself to the restroom and unknowingly left the receipt behind. Harry looked it over out of curiosity, double-checking that the sundae was free of charge. The date was printed under Jessy’s name and Harry was exiting the diner without thanking her for the great service.

Zayn found him not too long after, aware that Harry was not in the mood to talk. They sat in Zayn’s parked car for almost an hour, listening to a Nick Grimshaw on the radio going on about some popular boy band.

“It’s April 24th.”

They finally looked at each other. If Harry hadn’t spoken, Zayn eventually would have.

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you remind me?”

Zayn blinked. “I didn’t think you needed the reminder?” He gripped the steering wheel, expecting the other to fall back into his old antics—when he would become a raging, mental person.

His voice was calm, though. “It’s officially been a year since... Thank you, Zayn.”

“For what?”

“Distracting me today… for distracting me all these months. I mean, I haven’t completely forgotten him but it hurts a lot less and I like you a lot more.”

Zayn offered him a smile. He knew all along that Harry still remembered Louis but he had nothing to be worried about.

“I told you I’d help you forget.”

Harry kissed him slowly and that was the last time either of them were ever going to mention that stuff again.

~ ~ ~

[ **Present Day** ]

Harry is showering to get ready for dinner. Aiden is next door with Jade. Gemma and Zayn are left alone in the living room. They have a few minutes alone before everyone else is due to show up.

“I’m going to tell him tonight.”

Gemma squeals from pure joy. She knows exactly what Zayn is referring to and can’t help embracing him tightly.

“During dinner?”

“Hell no.” Zayn pinches her cheeks playfully. “Afterward when all you lot are gone.”

“What if we’re all too drunk to drive home? May I remind you that I live far from here?”

“I’ll pay for your bloody taxi. All of yours.”

“Can I be a witness at least? I won’t film it, I promise.”

“Sure you won’t,” Zayn huffs. He tried to hide the grin spreading his lips from ear to ear.

“I’m really happy for you two. Didn’t I tell you this would work? I knew you were the one!”

“I’m going to wipe that smug look off your face.”

“If you’re trying to ruin my happiness, it’s not working.” She sticks her tongue out at him and slips it back in with Harry’s appearance. He smells wonderfully and looks handsome. “I’m _so_ going to write about this night.”

~ ~ ~

With their closest friends sitting around them, Zayn is feeling bold.

They are being the loudest in the restaurant, catching the eye of the other, much quieter guests every once in a while. Aiden and Matt argue over the difference between smart cars and electric ones. Jade and Leigh-Anne roll their eyes at their dates and attempt to keep up with Rita and Gemma’s girly exchange. Lenny discusses international food with Harry. Zayn simply sits there, holding Harry’s hand under the table, rubbing circles onto his palm. He’s enjoying himself from being surrounded by these enthusiastic faces.

He clears his throat to attract everyone’s attention. Only Harry hears him, breaking away from his conversation with Lenny to pat his boyfriend’s thigh.

“Everything all right, babe?”

The boy in question nods and convinces the others to quiet down. They all stare at him expectantly. Gemma is clutching at her mouth to hide her smile. She knows.

“I was going to wait until later, after dinner, but I want to say it now in front of all of you because I have nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of.”

They all wait patiently. Harry furrows his eyebrows, wondering where Zayn is heading with his speech.

“Harry, you’re amazing. I tell you that all the time but there’s something I’ve been holding in.”

The girls at the table all sigh like a couple of fangirls. Aiden shushes them so that Zayn can continue. He gets as far as opening his mouth before a woman and her daughter stop by their table.

“Harry Styles,” the woman says. She’s staring at the curly-haired boy with wide eyes. Her daughter frowns.

 _You’ve got to be kidding_.

Harry is at a loss for words. At least he manages to rise from his seat to accept the hug from…

“Jay,” Harry whispers.

“This is such a pleasant coincidence!” Louis’ mother cries, holding onto Harry like she’s afraid he’ll run if she lets go. “Lottie and I are here on business and I wondered if you still lived in the area. Didn’t I, Lottie?”

The blonde girl—much prettier from when Zayn last saw her—steps forward. She appears on the UK’s Disney Channel, managed by Jay. They’re probably meeting with a producer. “Harry,” she breathes. He’s wrapping his arms around her without hesitation. Harry was always fond of Louis’ younger sister.

“And Zayn! My God, I didn’t even recognize you! How are you?”

“G-great. Good, yeah. You, Mrs. Tommo?” Zayn forces himself out of his seat and captures her in a welcoming hug.

“Brilliant, thanks.”

Lottie is next and she doesn’t say anything while Zayn embraces her rigid posture.

Everyone else at their table remains seated, watching in shock. They recognize who Jay and Lottie are, of course, though they’ve never met them. Zayn hasn’t seen them in so long and Harry stopped talking to them shortly after the disappearance. When he chose to move on, he started by distancing himself from Louis’ family. They were upset at first, insisted on calling and visiting him. Harry refused them every time until they gave up and stopped coming around.

Until now. They barged in on the moment that Zayn was going to say three important words. Maybe a year ago he would have been happy to see them but they’re so irrelevant to their lives now that he can’t think straight.

“Harry, darling, can I talk to you privately?” Jay questions in a low voice. Zayn hears her. She addresses the entire group this time. “I’m really sorry to intrude.” They all gabble “okay” and “no worries.”

Harry nods nervously, glancing at Zayn, waiting for his approval. Zayn shrugs and sits back down. He can’t control his boyfriend, would never do such a thing. Lottie takes Harry’s seat while her mother leads the anxious boy outside.

~ ~ ~

Once out the main entrance, they stare at each other far too long. It’s not easy to look at Jay Tomlinson. She resembles her son a lot. Harry stands his ground and doesn’t back down. She no longer seem as happy as she was back in the restaurant.

“Harry Styles, do you have any idea how much I’ve worried for you?” Jay scolds.

“Me? Why me?”

This rejoining probably isn’t going to be friendly at all. And Harry actually thought that she wanted to have a nice, little catch-up.

“You disappeared!”

“May I remind you that I wasn’t the one who ran away?” He’s shaking, spine tense and muscles tight. “Your _son_ did this, not me.”

Jay flinches. She doesn’t cry like one would think. Jay is a tough woman and she takes Harry’s attitude as an invitation.

“It was hard enough that he was gone. But you did the same. You rejected me so many times that it felt like you left as well.”

“I’m still in the same place I was a year ago,” Harry pronounces, teeth gritted. “I just couldn’t be around you or your daughters anymore. It was too much.”

“Harry, I always treated you like a son! We could have helped each other with this. I love you like I love Louis.”

“Love?” Harry feels woozy. He shouldn’t have come out here alone, should have brought Zayn with him. Zayn would hold his hand or rub his back pacifyingly.

“Yes, _love_. He’s not dead, he’s somewhere.”

“Where he’s not caring about what he did to us!” Harry’s raised voice does not go unnoticed by the restaurant’s hostess since they’re only a few feet away. She steps out and asks if she’s going to have to call security on him. Jay declares he’s her son and that there’s nothing to worry about.

“I’m not your son!” Harry screeches as soon as the doubtful hostess leaves them to it.

“You were close to it!” Her expression softens, voice lowers to a calm level. “You still are, baby.”

Harry shakes his head crossly. “I had a mother but she’s dead, she doesn’t need a replacement. And I don’t want to be _his_.”

“No one can replace her… or _him_ ,” she divulges, a bit aggravated. “Just because he walked out of our lives, doesn’t mean you have to walk out of mine.”

He doesn’t know where to go from there. She’s waiting for a reaction but he has none—can’t find it in him to reconnect with someone from that part of his old life. Jay should have arrived with a warning sign. Harry wasn’t prepared for any of this.

The double doors of the entrance open up again and they anticipate the hostess but instead it’s Lottie and Zayn who come barreling out. Zayn joins Harry and takes his hand. Lottie mirrors his actions but with her mother. Jay looks at the boys’ conjoined hands, understanding dawns on her.

“You’re together.”

Harry doesn’t have the energy anymore; lets Zayn confirm it with a nod.

Lottie scoffs. “Mom, we should go.”

Jay tells her to go wait in the car. Zayn doesn’t leave Harry’s side.

“Zayn, I was telling Harry that I don’t want to be out of his life.”

“I don’t want her to be in it,” Harry informs him quickly. He doesn’t care if it hurts her feelings or that he’s being rude, he wants to be done with this awkward conversation. Wants Zayn to hold him.

Zayn stays quiet. He prefers Harry’s choice but it isn’t his place to help him make that decision.

Jay dabs at her eyes with a tissue that was sticking out of her pocket. She misses a tear that rolls down her cheek. Harry almost reaches out to catch it. Now that she’s weeping, she doesn’t seem so strong. She’s indisputably as broken as Harry.

“If you insist on wanting me out, then I will respect your choice. I don’t want it to be this way but I realize I can’t force you, Harry.”

She hugs him even after all the shit he said. He stands there stiffly as she whispers, “Take care. Call me if you're ever interested in knowing what happened in Bristol.”

Harry pretends he doesn't hear that last bit. He doesn't want to know about the stupid trip.

The boys watch Jay Tomlinson retreat to her car and drive away with Lottie. 

“What happened with her?” Harry wonders because Lottie appeared to be upset.

“She asked if we’re together. I told her we are and she said a couple of things in favor of her brother. Gemma defended your honor. No biggie. What happened with you?”

Harry buries his face in Zayn’s neck. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Then we won’t. Are you up for dessert?”

“Not really.”

“Then we’ll go home. I’ll tell the hostess to let everyone know so they won’t worry, just give me a second.”

Zayn leaves Harry outside momentarily. When he returns, Harry inquires, “What were you going to say? Before Jay showed up.”

“Oh,” Zayn chuckles lightly. “That can wait for another day.” He kisses Harry on the forehead, preferring to sate the boy from the night’s events rather than dumping another load on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't ship Zarry, sorry.
> 
> Please bare with me, more stuff to come in the next chapters.
> 
> xx cheers!
> 
> :)


	6. The more that I push

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gemma and Zayn tell Harry he needs to get a serious job. Instead he gets a flat and makes a new friend.

The Dancing Rabbit is packed tonight. Dozens of people are outside in the queue waiting to get in. Many try bribing the bouncers, earning intimidating glares. The line seems horrible but the inside is worse. The dance floor resembles one giant crowd, made up of animated, sweaty bodies grinding all over the place. If you get close enough to the stage where the DJ is stationed, glow-in-the-dark paint gets splattered on your skin and hair, casting an illuminating glow around the club.

Zayn covers his head whenever paint flies in their direction; sometimes he hides behind Harry and lets him receive most of the colorful blow.

“It washes off, Zayn.”

“This stuff has chemicals.”

Laughing, Harry pokes him in the chest. “So do the millions of products you use, what’s the difference?”

“I only use organic—”

The other cuts him off with a kiss. A chaste kiss that Zayn doesn’t fight off, welcoming it with a parted mouth and grabby hands. The heat between them increases until they get pushed away from the stage by two security guards claiming the dance floor isn’t for make out sessions. Yet if you look around, the whole place is swarmed with couples and strangers going at it.

However, they don’t mind their new spot, the most secluded in the area. A plus is that the bar is closer.

“Want something to drink?” Harry takes out his wallet to examine its occupants. There are only a couple of bills. A blush forms on his face. “Do you have cab fare for later? I barely have enough for drinks... if that.”

Frowning, Zayn retrieves his own wallet from his pocket and hands a wad of bills to his boyfriend. “If you knew we were coming here, you should have cashed out, babe.”

“I know but…” Harry ruffles his currently pinkish-yellowish streaked hair, crosses and un-crosses his arms. “I hardly have anything left in my account.”

“And why is that?” Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose. The boy has been working; he should have a couple hundred pounds at least.

“I uh—I got let off because I was hardly getting any hours. I ended up paying for a lot of merchandise I didn’t get to sell.”

Harry was selling dietary tea and other herbal concoctions (that Zayn would never try) door-to-door. It is or _was_ his seventh job within the last year, a rather idiotic one when recalling a confusion that occurred one time. An addict thought Harry was selling weed. It didn’t go well when Harry foolishly called him a dumbass. The offended stranger knocked him down and stole the rest of Harry’s products.

Zayn never approved of that job but Harry is a stubborn arse sometimes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t be mad!”

“I’m not!”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Zayn rubs a hand over his face. “Because we shouldn’t be here, this is like, the most expensive club in the area. How did you even get us in? And besides, we have to make a house payment on the eleventh!” He adds in an undertone, “You know most of my paycheck goes toward my student loans.”

“And mine is for bills.”

“More money that we don’t have.”

They are way too sober to be discussing this stuff in the heated and crowded atmosphere of The Dancing Rabbit. Without another word, they find the exit and hail a taxi. Harry thinks Zayn is still angry with him when they get home so he goes straight to the bathroom. When he reappears with minty-fresh breath, Harry finds his boyfriend waiting for him in bed. He liberates Harry of his clothes and they settle into a cuddle. Nothing else. Zayn scratches at the dried paint decorating Harry’s arm and plants a kiss on his chest.

“Haz?”

Harry hums because he’s almost asleep. That’s what lulls him, being held.

“I don’t mean to nag _but_ I think you should find yourself a serious job.”

“Selling herbs is serious.”

“Yeah, if you’re a doctor. Or a pharmacist. Or even a fucking medicine man. But you’re neither one of those.”

“Sorry I didn’t go to med school,” he jokes sleepily.

“What was the last serious job you had?”

“I don’t remember…”

“Exactly.”

Zayn continues rambling about how he can’t believe it’s taken Harry this long to figure out that he can’t always take crap jobs just because they seem easy-going. Not wanting to argue again, Harry stays quiet and tries to listen. He’s also concentrating on keeping out a memory that’s been knocking at his brain since they were at the club.

~ ~ ~

[ **Three years ago** ]

“What are you doing?” Harry demanded. If he sounded angry it was because of Louis trying to be sneaky. He was going through a pile of opened mail. Harry’s mail.

Startled, Louis sought a reasonable explanation. He hadn’t expected Harry to return from the market so fast. With one look at his peeved boyfriend’s face, Louis went out with the truth, didn’t even bother to make something up. “I wanted to know how much you pay for this place.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because, you work at the local carnival whenever it’s in town. And when it’s not, you tend to country club snobs that never even tip you for carrying their fancy golf equipment like a donkey.”

Harry yanked an enveloped out of Louis’ hands—the one he’d been caught with. “So? What do my occupations have to do with you being nosy?”

“Harold, I am not nosy! I—I know you’re struggling with payments,” Louis toned down his voice. “I want to help you.”

“This isn’t your house, Louis,” Harry said indignantly because, no, he didn’t need help. “You don’t have to worry about that stuff just because we’re together.”

Louis’ lips formed a pout that made Harry mellow out, his chest tighten a bit. “I practically live here. Look at your closet! The bathroom cabinets! My place is far and you’re in a much cooler region. I like it here a lot.”

“That doesn’t make it okay for you to go through my stuff.”

“Sorry about that. I really do want to help, let me do that for you.”

“Are you suggesting that you move in permanently?”

The older boy smiled celestially. “You’d love having me as a roommate.”

Of course he would but he wasn’t going to be swayed that easily. “Lou, you’re the messiest person I know.”

“I’ll promise to pick up after myself.”

“We’re not negotiating this.”

“I’ll pay rent. Hell, I’ll pay your amount as well.” He waved a hand like it wasn’t a big deal.

“No, you won’t.”

“Harry Edward Styles, why don’t you want me to move in with you? I have the money. It would be less of a weight on your shoulder. You can focus on covering the other bills if that’ll make you feel better.” Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s taller frame, staring up at him without blinking. “Please?”

“Don’t do that with your eyes.”

Louis smirked. He knew it wouldn’t be hard to convince Harry. All he had to do was give him an innocent gaze, maybe a soft, lingering kiss as well. So he did, he leaned up and mouthed at that jaw. “Babe, just say yes.”

The other held back a whimper by biting his lip. “I don’t want you to spend all of your uncle’s inheritance because of me.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis moved his lips to Harry’s ear. “There’s plenty of it, trust me.” He nibbled at the flushed skin. “Besides, you’d like this arrangement. You know I only wear clothes when there’s company or when I go outside.”

That reminder does sound awesome. “I love the thought of you living here, honestly, but I can’t let you do this.”

“Please, love.”

“Lou—”

Louis quieted the indisposed boy with another kiss, this time on the lips. He ground his hips against Harry’s, once for luck and once just to tease him. Harry attempted to complain some more. He did not appreciate Louis trying to use his body as part of an incentive to get the unwilling boy on board. Louis slowed down his antics and cupped Harry’s face when the boy opened his mouth. “Hush Harold, now you’ll be able to take me out on romantic dates. Your parent’s cottage is nice but Paris is nicer. So is Barcelona. _And_ Greece!”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t say no.”

~ ~ ~

That’s how it happened. The first year into their relationship, Louis convinced him to take that extra step. Harry never told him the real reason why he initially refused the offer. Because once Louis was in his life for good, Harry was going to want him in it forever.

_~ ~ ~_

[ **Present Day** ]

Harry has been okay since him and Zayn got together. He hasn’t cried (not counting the times he’s been subjected to watch sad movies). He hasn’t intentionally broken things.  He hasn’t yelled like a maniac. Those aggressive freak-outs he used to perform stopped gradually and he’s been happy ever since. Smiling isn’t a laborious task anymore to say the least.

Gemma was correct in thinking that Zayn would be the key to helping Harry get through the disappearance. If she’s smug about it, the girl keeps it to herself.

But right now, Harry’s actually fuming and he’s really close to lashing out at a nearby lamp. He doesn’t want to go back to his old ways—but Zayn and Gemma are pushing him at the moment—doesn’t know where his patience begins and ends.

“Just take the job, Harry.”

“Yeah, come on, you’ll love it!”

“No, Gemma, I won’t.”

“You won’t know unless—”

“I try? No thanks,” he says scornfully.

His sister and her ally simultaneously grumble. They know how bothersome their insistence is. This isn’t being done to purposely bug him, though, Harry needs to get his head out of his ass and this is the best solution they could agree on. He was close to applying for another stupid job this week—something about a popcorn and a cinema. They refuse to let him make the same mistake as always, which is why Gemma is using her high position at _Marmalade_ to their advantage _._ She pulled a couple of strings to get Harry a last-minute interview.

“Little brother, you wouldn’t even have to drive out to our headquarters! You would get to stay in town and report from here,” she beams encouragingly.

“I still don’t see the appeal.”

“You’d start off with double the amount you were last earning. How’s that sound?”

Harry huffs because no, he doesn’t want to be a writer.

“ _Haz_ ,” Zayn tries.

“I’m not into girly magazines, what the hell would I write about?”

Gemma lifts her arms and tilts her head back, facing the ceiling. “I already gave you the job description and I’m not going to go over it again!”

Harry is about to grab the lamp he was previously eyeing. Smashing it into pieces would loosen up his temper. Zayn intercepts him with a hug. The boy recognized Harry’s intent and makes the effort to keep him in place. After witnessing several of those freak-outs last year, Zayn is an expert at detecting these.

Much to his displeasure, Harry is forced to listen to them further. At least Zayn’s arms are soothing.

“Think about it, that’s all we’re asking—”

“I’m actually expecting you to say yes so that I won’t look bad in front of my boss—”

“Babe, we really need the money.”

“Do you want me to lose my job?”

“At least go to the interview.”

“Yeah, don’t be a bugger!”

“Alright, alright! I get it!” Harry announces. He worms out of Zayn’s physical corral. He had it with the two of them and their partners-in-crime phase… that never seems to stop so maybe it’s not actually a phase.

“Excellent! I’ll phone Marbella right now!” Gemma jumps up and down, taking Harry’s outburst as a sign that he’s giving in to their persuasive arguments rather than him simply being sick of their persistence.

“Who the hell is Marbella?”

“To you she’s _Mrs_. Rossini and she’ll be the woman who will be interviewing you tomorrow, your future boss.”

“Tomorrow?! You didn’t say the interview was so soon!”

“Must have slipped my mind,” she says feigning innocence. Harry doesn’t miss the wink she sends Zayn before exiting their living room to confirm with _Mrs_. Rossini.

Harry reaches for the bloody lamp one last time while he thinks Zayn is caught off-guard. He’s mistaken; Zayn is actually pretty damn vigilant. He drags Harry away from all fragile objects. The younger boy is shaking, the other can feel it, and so he weaves their fingers together to steady him. Seconds pass until their eyes meet. One pair still reflects frustration while the other pair simply sparkles with optimism.

“It’ll be okay. No matter what happens, I’ll be proud of you.”

Harry coughs as a nervous habit and hides his face against Zayn’s collarbone. In a low voice so that Gemma won’t hear, he teases, “Look at you, being a supportive boyfriend.”

“I’m serious.”

He goes quiet until disclosing, “I’m doing it for you.”

Zayn squeezes his hand. “Harry, I lo—”

“I don’t know what to wear for the interview.”

Biting his tongue, Zayn wonders why Harry abruptly changed the subject. He doesn’t get the chance to steer the conversation back to where it was headed, Gemma strolls back into the room.

“You need to wear business attire,” she enlightens her brother. “It’s all set. Mrs. Rossini will meet with you at Belle’s Cafe in Bedford at ten sharp.”

Harry's eyes widen. “I thought you said I wouldn’t have to travel far?”

“Oh, come off it, that’s about an hour long drive.”

“One hour too long.”

“You’re lucky my boss isn't making you go all the way to Sheffield.”

“True,” Zayn pipes in earning himself a glare.

“Will you two at least be going with me?”

“Can’t. I have a meeting in Worcester. Ask him.”

Harry looks at Zayn hopefully.

“I have class in the morning, sorry.”

~ ~ ~

Zayn will definitely be sorry when Harry gets back.

It was really hot last night, prompting them to sleep in the nude. Harry awakened with Zayn pressed really close to him from behind, his morning wood jabbing at Harry’s bare back. It sort of turned Harry on which is why he woke Zayn up with a hand job. Once they were both wide awake, things got a little intense, making them both run late for the day’s commitments.

They even missed out on breakfast. Harry left the house with mismatched socks, Zayn with a bad bedhead. Harry pecked him on the lips before departing for Bedford.

He speeds up the M1. If he’s late to the meeting, Gemma will never let him hear the end of it.

And of course, because the universe wants Harry to have problems with his sometimes-demanding sister, he gets a flat tire. _Fucking perfect timing_. He has no clue how to fix a flat and considers calling Zayn but takes the time into account and knows the lad is already sitting in class. If he calls Gemma for help, she’ll pop his eardrums by scolding him.

He gets out of the car and stares at the cruel tire that decided to mess with him on the wrong day. Kicking at it doesn’t help, actually seems to deflate the tire more. _Well, fuck_. He considers calling Matt when a car horn makes him jump ten feet in the air. He’s not sure if it’s the work of an admirer or someone coming to the rescue, but that person pulls over a few meters ahead of Harry’s crappy car.

Harry checks his watch. He can still make it to the interview, assuming he’ll find the place quickly without using the GPS on his phone. He barely knows how to work the app, usually lets Zayn handle it. But what if he gets stuck in traffic along the way? He won't even get the chance to freak out over finding Belle’s Cafe.

“Need help?”

Harry jumps again and he swears he could get drafted by America’s NBA.

He’d forgotten about the person that pulled over. “Uh h-hi,” Harry stammers as he looks over his shoulder. He does a double-take because, hey, this guy looks familiar.

The guy’s answering smile reaches his incredibly large, brown eyes. Harry acknowledges that he’s fit with muscles bigger than his own and an overall attractive physique.

“Flat tire,” he mumbles.

“I have a spare in my truck I can lend you.”

Harry struggles to recall where he’s seen him before. “Really? That would be amazing but I can’t—”

“No worries, I own a shop that makes these. The name’s Liam, by the way. Liam Payne.”

So _that’s_ where Harry knows him from: _Payne’s Zone & Auto Parts_.


	7. More you resist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry misses the interview that Gemma set up for him but at least he makes a new acquaintance: Liam and motivation. Zayn tells him what he'd been saving since their anniversary dinner. Harry has a few flashbacks that lead up to a decision. While he sets forth making this decision happen, Harry comes across someone from his past and it's so mind-numbing that he forgets what breathing is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to update because it wasn't turning out the way I wanted it to. So I took a little break from this story and focused on my other fic, The Thing That Should Not Be. Recently, a friend inspired me to keep this one going and now here it is, finally. I'm happier with how this chapter turned out as opposed to an earlier draft I started over a month ago. It's quite lengthy as well.
> 
> If you care, there's a surprise within.
> 
> xx
> 
> (also... I suck at chapter summaries haha)

Liam is quite a spectacle to see when he’s concentrating on a task. His muscles flex as he bites his lips in concentration. Often, he wipes beads of sweat off his forehead with the hem of his t-shirt, sometimes exposing some skin. In those short moments, Harry averts his gaze to the fields surrounding the road. There’s not much else to look at. Anywhere is fine as long as he doesn’t acknowledge this guy’s well-kept physique.

“Alright, mate; it’s done,” Liam announces, flashing Harry a friendly smile. The young man wipes his hands on a rag which he pulled out of his tool box.

It’s not every day that a complete stranger offers to change a tire under the heat of the early summer solstice. Harry considers all types of repayment but comes up short. ‘Thanks so much,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry I was of no help, this has never happened to me. My bo—” Harry was about to complain that his boyfriend only taught him how to drive, not how to perform handy car work. But Zayn wasn’t the one who neglected him that vital piece of knowledge...

Liam waves him off with a chuckle, a sweet sound to Harry’s ears. “No big deal.”

This guy is really nice. Harry considers offering him an “I owe you” because he doesn’t have much cash on him, nor much of anything else.

Liam senses his uncertainty, his eyebrows crease. “It’s all good, y’know? Helped because I wanted to, not because I expected something in return.”

“I just—” Harry stops. He glances down at his wrist. According to the revolting, professional watch Gemma made him wear, he’s definitely going to miss the interview. He doubts Mrs. Rossini will excuse his tardiness. He mentally prepares himself to explain to Gemma and Zayn how it is that he managed to mess this up. Perhaps he shouldn’t have fooled around with Zayn earlier, no matter how horny he was. “I’m massively grateful for the help. I feel I need to repay you, especially because I’m running late to a job interview.”

“That’s terrible,” Liam says. He genuinely looks alarmed. “Where is it?”

“Bedford.”

The guy stares up at the sky, contemplating something inwardly. “Well, what time is your meeting? That’s a twenty minute drive from this point.”

“It starts in five.”

He nods at… the position of the sun? Is that how he seriously tells time? “Oh.”

“Yeah…” Harry doesn’t know why, maybe he’s just an idiot, but he feels that if he doesn’t release some words about the matter, he’s going to start shaking like yesterday. This time Zayn isn’t here to hold him together, just this overly-nice stranger that has already done too much for him. Thoughtlessly constructed, Harry blurts: “I really, really needed to take advantage of this job opportunity to not disappoint a couple of people. They’ll doubt I got a flat on my way because of how reluctant I was about going in the first place. I swear this happened on its own. I didn’t purposely cause this. I’d come up with the solution that the only way to make certain people happy would be to get my lazy ass out here. Why would I make this happen? This is so shitty. I don’t have much money to fall back on and I have a house payment to make in two days. My housemate is going to be very upset with me and my sister is going to murd—”

“I have a shop,” Liam interrupts.

“I know.”

The other cocks his head to the side. Liam chooses _this_ moment—and not during Harry’s monologue—to reveal a startled reaction.

Harry explains before the other can get a word in, “You looked familiar at first and then you said something about tires and it clicked. You own P-ZAP. I’ve seen your commercials.”

“Pee zap?” Liam’s eyebrows almost shoot up to his hairline.

Blushing, Harry elucidates, “It’s _p_ and then a dash and then _zap_. In all cap. No offense, but, P-ZAP sounds much cooler than Payne’s Zone  & Auto Parts. That just takes too long to say. My version rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

Well, _shit_. Harry couldn’t just keep his mouth shut today, could he? He probably just offended the bloke, wouldn’t be surprised if his newly installed tire gets popped…

“I never thought to shorten it. The name’s been that way for so long.”

Liam doesn’t seem affronted, places a hand on his hip while in thought. Harry wants to hit him with a wrench for being so nonchalant.

“My dad started the business back in the 70’s; you can blame him for the boring name.”

“No, no. Ignore me. I don’t know anything about owning a business, let alone naming one.”

Liam holds up his hands to show Harry that he’s not bothered, grinning reassuringly. “You’re right though; P-ZAP _does_ sound cooler. I’m considering changing it now, if you don’t mind. How much do you want for it?”

Harry’s jaw drops open. He’s known about Liam’s shop for so long. He’s caught the commercials in the early hours of the day, when he can’t sleep. They come with a catchy tune and a movie-like quality. And to think that the owner wants to change the name because of Harry’s imprudence… that he’s actually offering to pay Harry for the right to use the nickname.

“But wouldn’t your dad mind?”

“He passed down the company to me in his will.”

Harry blinks. “Oh. I—”

“It’s alright—sorry, what’s your name?”

“Harry.”

“It’s alright, Harry.”

They fall into a comfortable silence as Liam collects his tools and returns them to his truck. At a loss for words, Harry watches on silently. He’s really thankful for the free service even though he’s already missed the reason why he got stuck all the way out here. As if on cue, his phone vibrates. Gemma’s name appears on the screen. Harry would be stupid to ignore her call.

He pockets his phone because he’s feeling brave today.

“So, Harry, since it looks like that interview isn’t going to happen… I am—um—I’m currently short on staff and,” Liam smiles sheepishly, “Why don’t you come down sometime this week so we can have a chat about it? We can also discuss the company name change, if you’d like.”

Harry studies the sincerity in Liam’s brown eyes, at the tug of his lips as he beams at Harry encouragingly. There’s never been a friendlier stranger to ever walk this planet, he’s certain.

~ ~ ~

He sits in traffic on his way back to London, brand new tire and all. Liam’s business card, slotted in one of his back pockets, gives him a little buzz every time he allows himself to think about the offer Liam made him. _His new friend_. Harry hasn’t made a new friend in who knows how long.

The lad told Harry that if he ever has the misfortune of facing car trouble again, that he should not hesitate in calling for assistance (free of charge) no matter where he is. Real talk, Liam should win a fucking Nobel Peace Prize just for existing.

Another call—he lost track of how many so far—from Gemma and Harry decides he better answer this time.

“HARRY STYLES, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU,” Gemma wails when Harry mutters a polite salutation.

“I guess you know.”

“MRS. ROSSINI TEXTED ME SO, YES, I KNOW WHAT YOU DID, YOU—YOU TWAT.”

He rolls his eyes, forgets she can’t see him do so and grits out, “Gem, I got a flat on my way over there. What was I supposed to do? Run? Fly?”

There’s a voice on the other line that Gemma quietly responds to. “Listen, little brother, I have to get back to an important meeting. We’ll talk later.” She hangs up.

When did his sister take on the role of being his mother?

~ ~ ~

University of Westminster has a large campus that confuses Harry every time he visits. Either he doesn’t park in the right lot or he has trouble finding a specific building. Too bad he doesn’t like asking for directions which is why he’s completely lost. He’s wandering around what he assumes to be the location of the School of Media, Arts, and Design—Zayn’s study of focus. Zayn recently transferred over after realizing that law school wasn’t for him. He’s still in class, according to the schedule Harry keeps in his phone. Until then, Harry thinks that by surprising Zayn with his favorite turkey burgers and chips, he’ll succeed in distracting the boy from the fact that the interview was a total bust. Unless Gemma already informed Zayn, in which case, Harry should have come prepared with a helmet and harness.

Half past the time Harry arrived on campus, he spots Aiden exiting from a set of double-doors. He’s alone and actually heads Harry’s way unknowingly. Harry calls out his friend’s name and is met with a cheery grin.

“Hey, Harry! What a surprise; Zayn didn’t tell me you were here.”

“He doesn’t know,” Harry says, relieved. Aiden shows no sign that Harry might be in trouble with his boyfriend. That should be a good thing in itself. He was almost certain that Gemma would have told Zayn by now and Zayn would have told Aiden. That’s how it usually goes.

“Zayn’s still in there. Said he needed to discuss a project with our professor,” Aiden points to the classroom he emerged from. “I have another class to get to. Catch ya later, pal!”

Harry sits on a bench meanwhile. He wishes Aiden could have stayed to keep him company. (More like keep him out of his own thoughts). He knows Zayn’s going to be mad. Why wouldn’t he be? Harry hasn’t been able to get a decent job in so long that it’s getting harder and harder for them to live comfortably. Sometimes they have to get loans from Gemma just so they can afford groceries. They probably owe Gemma more than a whole house mortgage. If they keep it up, they’ll end up owing their souls to her. Harry loves his sister, but, she’s a bit too much for him to handle.

Also, if Zayn wouldn’t have wasted his time and money in law school, they’d be able to afford stuff a bit more. However, that’s not Zayn’s fault. If anyone is to blame, it’s Harry—him and his half-assed occupations that don’t exactly look good on resumes. Even though Liam seemed extremely generous and understanding, Harry doubts he’ll hire him. Why would someone want Harry to come and complicate their life?

“Babe, I didn’t know you were visiting today!”

Harry looks up right when a pair of warm lips come crashing down on his. They separate with a smack.

“How long have you been waiting here?”

“Not very long.”

“Did you see Aiden? Did he tell you about my project?”

Zayn’s voice just screams excitement even if Harry’s the only one that can hear it.

“Only said you needed to discuss it with your professor.”

Zayn exhales, runs a hand through Harry’s untamed curls, and winks, “Good, it’s a surprise.”

Blinking up at the boy looking down at him fondly, Harry questions, “For me?”

“For you.”

That’s it. He’s going to be sick. Harry came here to bribe Zayn with food and to sate him _before_ explaining the day’s mishap. While on the other hand, Zayn has been working on an art project for Harry out of the pure goodness of his heart. Vomit: it’s going to appear soon.

Zayn’s eyes haven’t stopped sparkling since he came up to Harry. His naturally dark eyelashes make the sparkle ten times better. Or worse, in Harry’s current case.

“You brought me lunch, too?” Zayn takes the brown paper bag from Harry’s hands and peers inside. “You must really want something from me if you came baring gifts.”

Zayn’s expression takes on a more serious appearance. He sits next to Harry and unwraps a sandwich.

“Gemma didn’t tell you, I suppose?”

Maybe it would have been better that way. Now Harry has to watch the sparkle in Zayn’s eyes die out when he tells him the truth.

“Is it about the interview? I was about to ask.”

“I missed it.”

A long silence ensues, sort of. Students mill about, going to and from classes, engaging in conversations about marks and revision. Zayn munches on his food. Harry taps his fingers on the bench, absently drumming out the tune to Liam’s commercial.

“Are you going to explain or…”

“Zayn, I didn’t mean to. I was on my way, fucking speeding, when this little flashing light appeared on the dashboard. I chose to ignore it but then the car started waddling—”

“Waddling?”

“I’m not very familiar with car lingo, sorry. Like I was saying, it started waddling so I pulled over and realized I had a flat tire. I had no idea what to do with it.”

Sighing, Zayn asks, “How did you get back here?”

“A really nice guy pulled over and changed it for me. By then, it was already too late.”

“Too late to go see Mrs. Whatever-Her-Name-Is?”

Harry nods, dejected.

“Harry, I’m not mad, if that’s what you think I am? The thing is, you should have left earlier this morning. Granted you would have still hit car trouble, difference is that there could have been time to fix it. Next time call me, babe.”

“I know that now. It’s just that… I was late because of you, remember?”

“Nope, don’t start. You were the early bird, you got the worm.”

~ ~ ~

Fortunately for Harry, and to his relief, Zayn was rather accepting of the situation. They ate their lunch on the same bench and made it back home in time for Gemma’s rant. Harry let her speak. She went on and on about the possibility that she could have lost her job and credibility. If she weren’t so good at what she does, she claimed, she’s certain they would have let her go. So on and so on. Zayn rolled his eyes during the phone call which Harry put on speaker. He didn’t want to endure it alone.

“She’ll get over it,” Zayn says after Gemma bids them sweet dreams.

Harry burrows his face against Zayn’s neck. “I doubt it.”

“We’ll send her a nice bouquet—”

“We don’t have that kind of money for roses.”

“I was going to suggest a bouquet of homemade cookies.”

“Neither of us bake, Zayn,” Harry reminds him. He peppers kisses up and down the spot below Zayn’s left earlobe, right where he gets all tense and rigid.

Barely breathing evenly, Zayn mumbles, “You used to bake.”

Harry slows down the movement of his lips. He’s not going to pretend that Zayn’s innocent comment didn’t completely kill the mood. Zayn hasn’t realized what he’s said until Harry is scooting away from him.

~ ~ ~

[ **16 Months Ago** ]

“Don’t ever wear that apron again,” Louis cautioned. “I’ll go blind for sure.” He’d been sitting with his legs crisscrossed atop the kitchen counter, observing Harry hard at work.

Harry set down the sack of sugar he brought out from a cupboard. He pulled upward on the material of his neon-orange apron with the phrase _Stylin’ Flour_ in large, block letters. He pouted. “Your mum gave me this.”

“Burn it.”

“Never.”

Louis groaned. “Fine. I won’t help you with whatever it is you’re making.”

“Cream puffs, Lou.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Even pre-heating an oven is complicated for you. I doubt you’d be able to help, anyhow.”

Louis kicked Harry on the hip playfully, letting that leg fall over the side of the counter while keeping the other crossed—his usual position as a spectator. Harry could feel the boy watching his every move. Even when he was messing around, Louis’ eyes were always on Harry and the movement of his hands. When asked if he was bored from watching Harry bake, Louis would shake his head and insist that he liked the view. It always made Harry feel at ease with his favorite hobby, a bit manly, even.

Harry tried teaching him once. It was a disaster. Louis didn’t have the ability to concentrate on one thing long enough to stir ingredients thoroughly or to follow proper instructions. The only time he ever concentrated in the task of baking was when Harry was doing all the work. Louis would prop himself up on the counter and watch. He never learned how to bake, only how Harry’s body worked. Then, later, when the house smelled like brownies or croissants, and all they could appreciate was each other’s flustered bodies, Louis would put his observations to use. He would stroke Harry the way Harry rolled soft pretzels. He would stir Harry’s senses the way Harry stirred cake mix. To them, baking was an outlet for exploring their contrasting creativity. Baking held all the comfort and pleasure they could ever find in each other.

Baking was what shaped them, molded them into a pair of amorous beings that were meant to intermingle. Soul mates cut from different mounds of dough with contrasting personalities: Harry with his quirky and sentimental persona, Louis with his boisterous and intelligent antics.

“I prefer to sit here uselessly,” Louis shrugged.

Harry went back to work and later, while the cream puffs were rising in the oven, so were their dicks.

~ ~ ~

[ **Present Day** ]

“Your hands are shaking,” Zayn says with a dead serious expression.

“It’s nothing.”

Shit. _Shit_. Harry counts to ten in his head and squeezes his hands closed. Zayn watches with scrutiny. He doesn’t miss the anxiety that flashes in Harry’s mind. Nor does he fail to notice how Harry is using his advice to calm down. _Just count to ten and breathe_.

“You’re thinking about him.”

 _Him_.

Harry sputters. “I’m not—I’m—”

“I know the signs, Harry.”

Zayn huffs, puts his face in his hands and taps his feet at an unsteady pace. Afraid to disturb him, Harry bites his bottom lip to keep quiet. There’s no point in trying to prove him wrong, Zayn knows Harry too well.

“Over a year, it’s been _over a year_ and little things that remind you of Louis still get you all bothered.”

“Not in a pleasant way!”

“In the way that he’s always present in the back of your head.”

Oh no. _No_. This conversation isn’t headed a safe way. Harry can’t allow it to get worse. He kisses Zayn’s reluctant lips. Tries to deepen it but Zayn shakes his head and pushes Harry back to look him in the eyes. He licks his lips.

“Harry, I love you.”

Harry waits for the punch line, for the friendly slip of the tongue. Zayn the tease, the friendly tease, who’s always trying to make Harry feel better. That’s what Harry expects.

What Harry doesn’t expect is the earnest look in the eyes studying him closely—like he’s under the mercy of a microscope.

“That’s what I was going to say at dinner on our anniversary. Before Jay showed up.”

Gulping, Harry nods in understanding. His tongue is tied in a triple knot. It pains him that he can’t say it back as easily as Zayn let it out. He has known, maybe, that Zayn’s heart is very fond of him—of what they’ve shared since the disappearance. The one that pushed them together and into the couple no one ever thought they’d become. Harry sure as hell never foresaw it.

He remembers what Greg revealed to Zayn about Louis. How the boy had been worried about Harry and Zayn’s friendship. That he had an inkling of what could potentially happen between them. Louis had seen it. Harry hadn’t.

Sometimes, when he allows himself to, Harry wonders if Louis vanished because of Zayn. He’ll never voice his suspicions, of course, but he has a feeling they’ll always be around whenever he’s with Zayn. Would Louis have stayed if it hadn’t been for Zayn?

But Zayn makes Harry happy and Harry tries to make Zayn happy to the best of his ability. Louis has to stop holding him back from letting Zayn completely in. Harry has to stop holding himself back. _No matter what happens, I’ll be proud of you_ , Zayn said yesterday.

“I love you too,” Harry says.

~ ~ ~

[ **Over Two Years Ago** ]

How does a normal person go about revealing their feelings to another? Are they supposed to plan it? Should it involve candles? A moonlit dinner? Some rehearsed romantic monologue? A mariachi band playing in the background? A long walk on the beach?

Is there one specific moment to wait upon?

Harry wasn’t a normal person planning something extremely romantic to tell Louis how he felt. He was an awkward guy who couldn’t decide which toothpaste to purchase and which Louis would prefer. They weren’t living together, not quite, _not yet_. But since Louis was always spending the night, Harry figured that his opinion on what brand of toothpaste to get for the household was important. Harry couldn’t simply provide Aquafresh. What if Louis was more of a Colgate type of guy?

He ended up getting one of each. When he presented them to Louis later that night, to see which brand the other favored, all he got in response was a blank stare.

“You’re giving me the option?”

Harry blushed because he realized how ridiculous he was being. Toothpaste was toothpaste. Who cared what brand it was?

Louis grabbed both tubes and smeared a little bit of each onto the bristles of his red toothbrush.

“I’ll taste extra minty,” Louis said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry took Louis’ face in his large hands and kissed the amusement off of those lips. Louis’ toothbrush clattered to the bathroom sink.

“I love you.”

Harry said it because he meant it. He said it because Louis was a goof. A fit goof who never made Harry feel ashamed of acting strange. Louis welcomed it with open arms, embraced the weird, and even encouraged it. Harry’s random declaration made sense, Aquafresh and Colgate be damned.

Intentional, romantic plans weren’t necessary for Harry to get the words out there. The moment didn’t require labor and perfection. Their love was love like toothpaste was toothpaste.  Louis saw it that way too and didn’t hesitate to say it back. Random or not, the timing was impeccable.

~ ~ ~

[ **Present Day** ]

Gemma calls again in the evening. She tells Harry that Mrs. Rossini is willing to give him a second chance. The woman said she’ll meet him in the same place. Gemma makes a point of reminding Harry to leave early and to check his tires before heading out.

“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to,” Zayn says. He massages Harry’s shoulders. “Don’t let your crazy sister force you into this.”

“How come you’re on my side all of a sudden? Thought you had your girl’s back.” Harry cranes his neck to the side to view Zayn and calculate his expression with the next words that come out of his mouth.

“I forced you to get yourself out there this morning. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“Neither of you forced me. I made the decision myself.” He pauses to bask in the steady motion of Zayn’s hands. 

“Either way, don’t do it because you feel like pleasing me or Gemma. Do it because you want to.”

That’s the thing, does Harry want to? Would he be content working a similar job to Gemma’s? As the older sibling, she was always the one with a proper job. Gemma was the responsible one—the one that once made their late parents proud. Harry was the one who moved from job to job whenever he got bored. Now that Gemma was trying to help him get his life back in order—with Zayn’s assistance—she expected Harry to oblige because of her short-lived experience and understanding.

He wouldn’t own this decent yet afforable house if it weren’t for his sister. When Harry decided he wanted to move to London, where there seems to be more opportunities, Gemma supported him by handing over almost her entire savings account. The only reason he accepted that massive loan was because she assured him it was for his own good. Harry was better off in London than he was back in their childhood town where they lost their parents during a home break-in gone terribly wrong. He went a bit haywire when it happened. Could anyone blame him? He was seventeen at the time. He’d arrived home when the ambulance was carting off the lifeless bodies of their parents.

From the time up until his nineteenth birthday, all Harry knew was alcohol and insomnia. It was bad. Zayn, the best friend anyone could ever hope for, was always there to run his hands through Harry’s curls to try to soothe him. He’d get food into Harry’s system when the only thing the rash boy wanted was hard liquor. Contrary to the way Harry dealt with things, Gemma worked extra hard to distract herself from the pain of losing their parents and the pain of watching her brother become a hot mess.

Upon learning that Zayn was moving to London to attend university, Harry had the fleeting idea that London would be a great place for him. The idea didn’t last for long. Harry didn’t have enough money to go off of. Like a fucking fairy godmother, Gemma stepped in and bought him a house in the outer part of London. She said she had a good feeling about it. She’d been right for the most part. The only rule she gave him was that he wasn’t allowed to abuse alcohol anymore and that was actually a success.

Harry owes his sister a lot, he knows that. One day he plans on paying her back in full for everything she’s done for him. But this job that she’s trying to get him at _Marmalade_ just doesn’t call his attention. Something that does, however, is the business card that’s still resting inside his back pocket. He hasn’t mentioned it to Zayn—doesn’t know if he should.

Far along that night, after Zayn’s deep asleep in his arms, Harry untangles their bodies carefully. He tiptoes out of bed with the little piece of thick paper he so willingly kept out of Zayn’s sight all day. Two different numbers are listed on the card. He tries the office number first and is met with a jingle and a voicemail operative. That was expected since it’s now way past standard business hours. A cell phone number is what he tries next. He doesn’t think about what he’ll say and regrets it when the young man from this morning answers.

“ _Hello_ ,” Liam grunts.

Harry’s pretty sure he just woke the fellow up. Great start, he thinks.

“Um—Liam, right? This is Harry? From this morning?” Harry tends to add a questioning quality to all of his sentences when he’s nervous. “You changed my flat?” _Of course he did, you loon_.

Liam is quiet for a while and Harry is pretty sure he’s being judged. “ _Yeah, yeah. I remember. How’s it going_?”

“Good?” Harry coughs. “It’s going good, yeah... You told me you’re short on staff and I know this probably isn’t a good time but do you think I could possibly—you know what? This is definitely a bad time. Sorry I woke you. I uh—Sorry, yeah.”

“ _You didn’t wake me up, Harry. I just ran up a flight of stairs when I picked up._ ” A beat passes. Harry feels dumb beyond no measure. “ _If you’re asking about the offer I made, I’d like for you to come in as soon as possible. How does tomorrow sound?_ ”

Harry considers waking Zayn up to tell him the incredible news. “No interview?”

“ _I mean, sure, if you’d like to be old-fashioned then why not? Honestly, I’m pretty sure you’re fit for the job. Bring a good pair of comfortable shoes, please_.”

He holds back a stutter and _a, what the hell, Liam, are you sure_? “What time?”

“ _Whatever works best. My assistant opens up shop at nine. I come in around eleven because I stay until closing. You make your choice. Sound good?_ ”

“Yeah, definitely. See you tomorrow, then. Thanks so much.”

Liam chuckles that brilliant sound of fond that Harry first-hand witnessed. “ _Like I said earlier, no big deal_.”

~ ~ ~

Out of some miracle, performed by a thousand angels maybe, Harry is out of bed and in the shower before eight. Zayn’s still asleep when Harry is dressed and ready to go. He pecks Zayn on the forehead and leaves a note on the nightstand. He also notifies Gemma that he won’t be able to meet Mrs. Rossini because he found something else. She’ll be mad, of course, so Harry arranges to have a dozen roses delivered to her office before lunch time. Also another dozen for the women he’s standing up for a second time. He’s not repentant of the money he’s spending for those bouquets, feeling confident about a job for once.

Harry checks his tires before leaving, one thing he’s actually taking Gemma’s advice on. Every tire looks swell and the sun is already out and shining. It’s a new day that promises something good for Harry. He can feel it as he drives out of London and heads northwest to Northhampton. It’s a bit further than Bedford (where he was supposed to meet with Gemma’s boss).

Thanks to his early start, Harry makes it at nine. He finds the busy street where Liam’s shop is with ease. There’s only one car parked in the lot provided behind the shop. It must belong to the assistant Liam mentioned.

He’s not sure whether he should enter from the back or the front. Figuring the front makes more sense on account of him being new, Harry pushes the entrance door open. A jingle—similar to the one he heard when he tried calling the shop’s phone—echoes throughout the establishment. It’s quite large, to his surprise. There are dozens of shelves stacked with car stuff he’s never used or heard of. Each isle is labeled. On the wall to the far right, there are windows that show a glimpse of where cars get fixed. And on the opposite end of the shop, there’s a check-out counter. A guy is over there, Harry realizes—brunette in dark jeans and a grey t-shirt. The assistant, he presumes, has his back to where Harry just entered. He’s sorting through a box, it seems.

The jingle dies out and finally the assistant acknowledges Harry’s presence.

“Hi!” The guy calls out in a cheery voice. He doesn’t turn around.

Harry swears he knows that voice. The single syllable he just heard rings through his ears. It shakes him up, sends goosebumps up and down his spine. He’s curious to see what this person looks like because he must be an old friend or colleague.

The guy sets down the box and turns to offer a smile. And it’s no fucking way that Harry is awake at this moment. No fucking way he actually got out of bed and drove here. No fucking way this isn’t another one of those dreams he’s been plagued with since…

“You must be the guy Liam told me about. Harry, is it?”

Harry stares. He can’t do anything else while his heart is threatening to plummet out of his chest or when his throat has decided to keep his voice trapped. His palms are sweating and his eyes are blinking rapidly. He knows he’s not dreaming. This is more like a cruel joke. Any minute now, a man with a camera is going to run out and a whole crew will erupt in laughter led by the boy that’s still smiling at Harry. None of that happens and it drives Harry mad.

The boy he can barely look at owns eyes that are just as blue and gentle as Harry remembers. He wants answers but he can’t get his mouth to move. What would he say anyway? Hey, I know you. Don’t you know me? BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE YOU DO.

The boy notices his struggle and steps around the counter to walk toward Harry. Is Harry even breathing at this point? Because he’s pretty sure his heart isn’t thumping the right way and the amount of oxygen in his brain is down in the negatives.

The guy holds a hand out for Harry, making this situation even worse as he says, “I’m Louis.”


	8. It's for the best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't know how to act properly around Louis now that he's finally reappeared.

What is a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean? Surrounded by a vast amount of salt water and vengeful waves, the harmless vessel floats as long as there's a notion that sinking is not written in the stars. As opposed to sinking, the floating member remains above sea level, hovering on the line that keeps it out of the unknown depth that contains more mysteries than the _Nancy Drew_ book series.

Implanting the idea that the stars draw out written fate, aided by celestial objects that can almost be seen from Earth—out of bounds of artificial city lights, toxins and pollutants—is a consumable way to have faith in something. Driftwood will often carry the burden of being tossed around by abusive water. Until faith embodies one soulfully, done struggle is constant. The vessel will keep drifting because that's how it works until peace is discovered.

A piece of driftwood is like an individual that is struggling for a purpose, making connections and surpassing difficulties.

Harry's a broken chunk of driftwood lost at sea. He's being faced with treacherous waters but there is no bright side waiting amongst intergalactic space. Not when he's finally come face-to-face with the person who has single-handedly disrupted his life without even being present. It was the absence that trained Harry's mind to expect hardships. Now, standing in front of him, is a way out of the wreck. Wreck of the Styles, his right mind was intermittently lost somewhere along the voyage. At bay, with a hand outstretched and a smile expanding for days, is Louis Tomlinson, waiting for Harry to accept the gesture and once again succumb to the wonder that is this blue-eyed human form of fate.

Harry's faith may be restored.

Lurching forward with as much grace as the elephant in the room, Harry takes the hand he never thought he'd touch again, shakes it slowly, in a motion drawing a line between friendly and creepy. Those can't be the precise descriptions of Harry's inner rambles. Confusion is more like it. _Fucking confusion_. Did he hear correctly? Did Louis introduce himself as if he's a total stranger?

Harry retraces a couple of steps, regrets doing so as the back of his body comes into contact with car fresheners. A bunch of the packets slip off their hooks as the display tumbles over. Harry barely reacts in time to save the rack from hitting the ground.

He immediately apologizes with a stream of "oops" and settles the rack back in place. As Harry occupies himself with rearranging the metal structure, Louis bends down to pick up the sweet-smelling air fresheners that are in the shape of smiley faces instead of the typical pine tree. Harry doesn't mean to stare, _he doesn't_ , but his eyes focus on Louis'... No. This is wrong, so wrong. Louis' bum is meant to be seen with his current posture, should be the most captivating aspect in the shop, in the town even! Yet, there's not much to see—not with the pants he's wearing that might be one size too big. Does his arse still exist beneath those baggy jeans? His shirt is also one size too big. When Louis straightens up, Harry looks away with the swiftness of a gazelle.

"Sorry 'bout that," is the last phrase that leaves Harry's suddenly dry mouth. He doesn't stay long to study Louis' raised eyebrows.

The pounding of sneakers against the concrete sidewalk competes with his ragged breath, the exertion he hasn't made since the day he got a pounding from Greg's crew. Harry gets to his shabby car within seconds and fumbles with the keys, thankful that the car park is free of bystanders. It was too much, seeing his past love again after months of getting accustomed to the idea that he was never going to reappear.

Why now? Why here?

Harry has so many questions that will never be answered—not with the way blood rushes to his head and his eyes get reduced to slits. He's not ready to face him again. Louis acted like he's never met Harry. That doesn't make sense. They knew each other so well that there weren't any secrets between them. Well, except for the one involving Greg and the little heart-to-heart he had with Louis. Other than that... They knew each other blindfolded. Could probably carve one another out of clay and get all the right curves and angles just from relying on muscle memory. Louis knew all of Harry's flaws and possessed the power to push and push to get Harry (who was still recuperating from the loss of his parents) to try, to challenge himself in positive ways. Respectively, Harry detected Louis' insecurities early on. Although he lacked shame, Louis was afraid of what he was like and what other people thought. Harry made it his job to teach Louis to appreciate his uniqueness, to produce it with pride.

They helped each other with whatever means they saw possible. Though it wasn't just about repairs, it was also about the way they acted with one another: always gentle, not too rough, careful and honest, fun-loving and spontaneous. They could have ran for town superlatives, would have won "best couple" by a landslide, Harry is convinced.

They knew each other, is the thing. The fact that Louis is now playing a game called: _Hey There Stranger, What's Your Name_? is utter bullshit. Maybe Harry's ready to face him now, angry enough to use his words and figure out why he's this week's contestant. ‘This isn't a game Louis, you were fucking gone for over a year!’ will be Harry's winning remarks. Since he didn't get as far as inserting his car key into the slot, there's no point in extending this any longer. Confrontation: even a child can do it.

Newfound bravery sparks the initiative of turning Harry toward the direction of Liam's shop. Fucking shop that contains what, the destination of the Bermuda Triangle? Is this seriously where Louis fucked off to after all this time? He's going to find out even if his hands are trembling and Zayn's "count to ten to even your breathing" advice is slipping out of hand. What number even comes after two? Fuck, he can't think straight. Especially not when he sees Louis approaching slowly, hesitation evident by his movements. They cross the lot to reach each other.

Under the shine of the morning sun, Louis' hair glows a golden brown, a phenomenon that is extenuated by the familiar eyes that bore into Harry's whole being. It breathes life into Harry, the closeness of their bodies (as close as one can consider four feet of space), the quietness blanketed around them. The surrounding world is filled with traffic sounds and chirping birds and distant chatters from the diner on the corner, yet the only ear-worthy noise Harry accepts is the drawn breath that escapes Louis' mouth, his thin lips quivering for a short instant.

And then he speaks, the voice of a thousand angels replacing Harry's unsteady flow of subconscious mayhem. "You're not embarrassed about knocking that display over, are you? Not a big deal, y'know." Harry doesn't blink. Louis coughs, obviously worried. "I'm not like, bothered or anything."

_Why do you style your hair all wrong? Your bangs are supposed to be side-swept not pushed back and teased into a quiff. That's Zayn's signature hairdo, not yours, Lou._

Lou.

"I'm a klutz. This job isn't for me so I don't know what Liam was thinking when he recruited me."

_Why does the mention of your boss' name cause you to shift?_

"Just avoid walking backwards and you'll be fine," Louis’ joke is executed drily.

Harry will never be fine after this.

"I still don't think I'm suitable for this job."

Truth is he isn't suitable to be around Louis.

"You can't assess yourself until you've had a proper run-through. Come on, stay for at least an hour or two. Get a feel around the shop and then we'll see if you can handle it. We've been short on staff lately and it would be nice to have someone new on board. Please, try it."

Try it. _Try_ it. Harry's going to pass out, fall flat on the asphalt, limbs sprawled out unattractively. This is totally in Louis' character. _This_ is Louis, telling him to make the jump—with or without a parachute—just because it'll make him feel better about himself.

But. Someone new on board? What is that supposed to mean? How is Harry someone new? He's anything but new to Louis. This game is quickly getting old—Louis pretending Harry's a stranger. With the intimate history between them, it would be sinful to set aside those memories.

"You don't know who I am?" Harry blurts.

The question must come out weird but Louis doesn't pause too long before he's answering, "I just know that you're Harry. That's what Liam told me. He said you would be tall with curly hair and that you'd get here around this time. If Liam liked you, that's a very good sign." Louis finishes with a small smile. His eyes glisten, the sun doing its job of shining light onto everything it touches. Beautiful and captivating, Louis still is.

Harry wants to touch, he does, but he's paralyzed. His ability to speak; to move; to think; is completely gone, like the wind that hasn't been around this summer. Louis is so beautiful. He makes everything else look like crap in comparison without even trying, even though he’s wearing his clothes and styling his hair wrong.

He's still smiling at Harry, waiting, wanting Harry to _try_.

Clearly this is the work of some high-powered black magic. Louis disappears for over a year and suddenly, just as Harry thought he was almost completely done obsessing over the loss of his ex, the universe fucks with them by arranging them as soon-to-be coworkers. In what way does that justify the pain Harry has struggled through? Mysterious fate is what stands out in this situation, especially since Louis seems to have suffered significant memory loss. How does one just simply forget the love of their life? Because that's who Harry was to him, right, the love of Louis' life?

He feels sick, a tension bubbling up the blood in his veins. Anger—his scariest defense or maybe his biggest flaw depending on how one chooses to look at it—builds up inside him, a wild animal clawing at the walls that hold it captive. If he releases the beast, he'll most certainly scare Louis away. But if he holds it in... He doesn't even want to know. Will Louis stay this time?

The best thing to do is wait it out. He's already done a lot of waiting, more than a fair share of it, how bad could just a little while longer be? He's intent on figuring out what Louis is playing at here because, apparently, he's been able to erase Harry from his memory like a student erasing the wrong answer. The only temporary explanation that Harry can come up with is that Louis suffered a vicious accident. Maybe it was a car crash! But whatever the cause was, Harry will not forget all the times Louis helped him, so now there's no way Harry will back out. He'll help somehow. Even if being near Louis is difficult, already proving to be a laborious task.

He'll take the damn job. Who cares if he can handle it or not?

"Do I get a tour?" Harry inadvertently asks in a flirty tone. He'll have to remind himself to take it easy and treat Louis the same way he's being treated: like a stranger. But soon, the game will be over. There's a limit, okay. Harry has one.

Louis' lips twitch for a split second and he's turning away to head back to P-ZAP before Harry can register how different his posture is. Louis doesn't hold himself as eloquently as before—not as sensually. Harry's got a lot to catch up to. At least he can count on his dick to restrain from twitching with want.

They stroll back into the shop. Harry is given a tour that he attempts to pay close attention to. His guide has such a patient air about him that even his voice is slow and registered. Like Harry's. It's nothing but a ghost of the animated soul that belonged to someone who would tickle Harry or prod him for drifting off during the telling of a story. Louis always craved the center, he wanted attention on him at all times. From Harry, that is. So far, this Louis has only stuck to business, showing Harry their vast work surface, hardly noticing whether Harry is following along.

Harry knows what he'd rather be doing on that surface.

 _Geez_ , he needs to work on controlling his thoughts. They tend to stray when lacking his permission. No more thoughts about surfaces and a stretched out Louis. Because, _oh_.

They weave their way along the dozens of shelves set up accordingly to similar uses. Louis explains the prices and general knowledge of their most popular items, the ones customers tend to purchase. Harry should have come prepared with a notebook and pen because what the fuck is a cylinder leak detector and how will he know which brand of car wax will perform better than others? How do you even fix an engine with the tools in aisle 2 or how do you turn on the power drills in aisle 6? All these products look too dangerous for Harry to ever consider operating. Hell, customers will absolutely hate him. Or laugh at him. He can’t decide which one is crueler.

Louis will be disappointed in putting blind faith in him. That's the last thing Harry wants to do, disappoint _this_ Louis. So he puts all of his effort in listening to the words Louis says rather than criticizing the pitch of his speech. There are so may contradicting qualities from the way Louis speaks now, to the way he spoke before. It's almost as if Louis went to a school for the past year where he un-learned how to be Harry's Louis and learned how to be a new and so-not-improved Louis. He was perfect the way he was.

Somehow, he’s still perfect.

 _Dammit_ , Harry drifted again and completely missed a lesson on Jack in aisle 11. Wait, Jack? Is that another employee? When Harry interrupts Louis to voice his question, he's met with a pair of appreciative eyes, crinkling around the edges. Louis chuckles and punches Harry playfully on the arm. "You're a right laugh, Harry. Work will never be dull with you around."

Harry rubs the spot Louis punched and pouts. It was a valid question. And so was Louis' amusement, it seems, since he moves up the aisle to point at the section of wheel bolts and explains their different sizes, eyes still crinkled at the corners. He’s adorable.

Lord, have mercy on Harry's inexperienced soul. This is probably why he didn't attempt college. His attention span is as wide as the space between his teeth.

Also, Louis should stop grinning like that or Harry will have to send him a bill for the chest pains.

"We still have a few more aisles to go but I think we'll switch it up a little."

Louis changes the course of their direction over to the right side of the shop with the giant windows—the mechanic side. This must be where all the magic occurs. Or, where Harry will likely lose a finger or two.

"We call this room the work station. Liam and Niall spend most of their time in here fixing cars over there." He points to one corner where there is a pair of impressive Bentleys parked side by side. "And over here is where tires are made. It's a really long process and only Liam handles that machine. I wouldn't even know which buttons to push and Niall would probably light it on fire accidentally. So, fair warning, don't go near that thing unsupervised."

Harry holds up his hands. "That's fine by me. Doesn't even spike my curiosity, to be honest."

"Glad I don't have that to worry about."

Worry, Louis would _worry_ about Harry if he got near the big, scary machine that looks to complicated to even try to describe. His heart thumps erratically.

Then he recalls a Niall. Is he the other Jack? "Who's Niall?"

"He'll get here soon. He's great with cars and knows a lot about them. If you ever have a question, feel free to pester him. I don't know that much, I don't even drive."

Harry tilts his head to the side. His whole fucking world tips to the side. What? Is Louis joking? He was the one who taught Harry to operate a vehicle so that can't be possible. He was driving the last time they spoke, for crying out loud! Nope, Harry isn't going to cry.

Harry swallows thickly. “Why is that?"

"Not really a good reason besides the fact that cars kind of freak me out. They make me nervous." He thinks before adding, "Liam drives me everywhere I need to go."

"Your boss?"

"He'll be your boss too, y'know."

How generous of Liam. Not only did he give Harry the impression that he's a saint, he's given him another reason to be grateful. Seeing how Louis flinches at a distant memory of cars, Harry figures that it must have been an accident the poor guy suffered. There’s some confirmation in his theory. The only problem with that is the fact that Harry didn’t find any trace of a car accident? The first thing he did was contact highway patrol who assured him there were no incidents within the time frame that Harry gave them.

"Cars freak you out, but, you work with cars," he tries his best to leave accusation out of his tone.

"Mm, well, not really. I work with car parts and accessories but I don't get down and dirty with those beasts. That's what we have Liam and Niall for."

Louis getting down and dirty doesn't create tingles in Harry's stomach, nope. He doesn't feel that pull down under. Oh, but he does, he fucking does and it's straining in his pants.

"Where's the loo?" Harry chokes out, angling the front of his body away from Louis' line of sight.

"Back out there. Go down aisle 15 and take a left. You'll find a corridor that'll lead you straight to the toilets."

~ ~ ~

He's never sunk so low until now. Harry splashes his face with cold water and reminds himself that he, in fact, has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who is probably heading off to class right about now, oblivious to the current state of Harry's little friend down under. Not little, though, thank you very much.

Okay, Harry's thoughts are still a wild mess. He needs a lasso to gather up all of this new information and figure out what he's going to do now that Louis... Not that he's back in Harry's life, not when he fails to acknowledge Harry in any way that would suggest they were ever in love... No, but, Louis' back. He's standing in the flesh just meters away from Harry probably taking notes for Liam to read up on later. If Harry has failed to impress Louis, if he doesn't get the job, Harry has no idea what he'll do next. He can't move on and find some other place knowing where Louis will be. Fuck, if Harry becomes a stalker because of this...

Seriously, though, why now? He only just told Zayn he loves him. How can Harry contend to that after what feels like running into a wall shaped like fate: a massive sign in his face with a fuck you message in bold letters, signed by the universe.

Almost as if to pronounce the trouble he's in, a text message from Zayn arrives.

_**Saw your note. Hope you get the job ! I'm making dinner later, so proud, babe x** _

**It's looking good so far. See you later .x**

It's too soon to tell Zayn of his discovery. For a moment or two, Harry wishes to revel in the fact that Louis is okay. He'll roll around in a bed of triumph, if he has to. Even if Louis is slightly different, he's still alive and breathing--something Harry wasn't even sure about for the longest. In his head, it was either Louis is dead; he's never coming back or Louis never loved me; he's dead to me.

Louis may not have made the return that Harry dreamed of during many nights, he may not have showed up at his doorstep with forgiveness wrapped in his expression, but he's alive and that is all that matters.

For now.

~ ~ ~

Louis isn't slightly different. No, his new self is an alternate version. Almost everything about this Louis screams he’s the exact opposite.

Exhibit A: he's organized now. He keeps the aisles and the checkout counter in order and admits he's a bit of a nagger when something is out of place. The only part of the joint that isn't blessed by his need for cleanliness is the side work station. It's a bit of a mess--not so much to deem it unprofessional but it's getting there.

Louis rolls his eyes at the mention. "Liam hates when I try picking up in there. He claims it takes him out of his working groove."

"Maybe he's just lazy," someone pipes in and it sure isn't Harry. First of all, he wouldn't bad mouth his new boss without officially having the job. Second, he doesn't have a touch of Irish in his speech. It must be Jack or the other guy... Kyle?

"Niall!"

There we go.

"Louis, honey," Niall responds, downgrading the warning in Louis' tone and going for a little melody in his greeting. "I'm home, baby!"

Baby. Okay. _What_? Harry clenches his fists because who is this?

Louis accepts a hug from Niall, ridiculous name by the way. Kyle was an upgrade.

And here's Exhibit B: Louis is actually blushing. His cheeks are pink, almost as pink as Niall's, and his ears are getting there. The boy ducks his head, a bashful smile playing at his lips. Niall's blatant abuse of the term flirting seems to ruffle Louis' feathers. He's the last person who would blush in public, though. He'd turn pink after a night with Harry, that's justifiable, but from petty flirting? _Ridiculous_. Niall is ridiculous.

Louis nudges Niall and gestures at Harry. Niall, as if barely noticing that Harry isn't just another display case, jumps. "Shit, were you watching that?"

"Which part of the flirting?" Harry bites his tongue. Oops. He didn't mean to say that so sourly.

Niall clutches his stomach and throws his head back, exposing a pale throat, cackling. "You're cute. Harry, is it?"

So everyone was well informed that Harry was coming today? Interesting. He must be the brunt of the joke. The noob never gets the first laugh but Harry will make sure he gets the last.

"Yeah. And you're... Kyle?"

Louis covers his mouth when a snort tries to escape. There's his Louis. Harry is close to bouncing on his toes from the pleasure of gratifying Louis.

Aloof, Niall swallows the intentional name alteration and burps out a, "Close but not quite. It's Niall, nice to meet ya, newbie."

 _Brunt of the joke_.

"We're still waiting for Liam to come in and finalize it but I think he'll fit in." Louis comments to Niall as if Harry isn't in the room, jabbing a finger in the air, toward Harry.

"Great, less work for me," Niall whoops.

"You're forgetting you still have a long way to go with those Bentleys."

"Don't remind me, man." Niall turns to Harry and offers his fist for a little bump. "Welcome, Henry."

"It's Harry," he corrects automatically.

Niall laughs, a sound of pure, unabashed amusement. Harry joins in.

~ ~ ~

They get their first customers of the day at half past ten. Niall busies himself in the work station using loud-sounding tools that only make a slight buzzing through the thick wall dividing him from the rest of the shop. Soundproof walls, impressive. Louis has Harry follow him around as he assists a couple in finding the right grease for their engine. Harry imitates a shadow as he allows Louis to be his teacher. It's adorable how charming Louis is with customers and it's even more endearing that he's knowledgeable about manly stuff.

Does Harry even need to think about Exhibit C because there it is, Louis knowing manly stuff? Sure, he taught Harry how to drive and he was the one who would mess with their cars whenever something went wrong but it was never that manly of him to know how to do these things. Fuck, it's hot watching Louis speak car jargon and he doesn't even know why.

The couple goes with what Louis recommends and pays at the counter with Harry. He lets Louis guide him through the process of using the cash register even though he already has experience with them from a past job at a hipster clothing store. When the couple leaves, Louis high fives Harry and says he did well.

Harry thinks about how crazy it would be if he were to grasp Louis' hand and pull him in, kiss him until his knees weaken. Maybe then, that would teach Niall to back the fuck off. The reality in the situation is that this Louis may not be so inclined to kiss a stranger, which Harry totally isn't but since they're playing this game...

"Hey guys." A familiar voice intermingles with the chime of the opening of the entrance door. Liam strolls over to them, completely killing the intent to surprise-kiss Louis. Harry will have to save that for a rainy day.

Harry watches how Louis steps away from him, around the counter and meets Liam halfway. He's smiling up at Liam and saying something about Harry doing a great job so far and wait... Why is Liam slinging his arms around Louis' waist and why is he moving in to...

Exhibit D: Louis accepts Liam's lips like it matters.

This time the piece of driftwood does not surpass the attack of the violent seas. It sinks into the dark, unknown depth, distancing itself further from the fate-written stars. Harry can't handle this and he won't. _He won't_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this update is long overdue. Sorry to those of you who have been waiting for this. If you're still with me, thank you, ily xx
> 
> Also, my laptop is broke so I had to post this on my iPad & for some damn reason, this site acts stupid on my tablet & got rid of the parts I italicized for a reason... As soon as I get a chance, I'm going to fix come back & fix this chapter. That's just me being a weirdo so if you don't care for that stuff, cool. Haha
> 
> Xx


	9. I know you're fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is still trying to deal with all of it. (Lamest summary ever, I know)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the late update again! I'm horrible :s
> 
> Also wanted to state that the historical aspect of this chapter is not completely true because of obvious reasons. Also, this is all fabrication & stuff. 
> 
> And now onward, my children.
> 
> xx

The biggest mistake one can make is letting their guard down. Someone can spend years perfecting the art of building up imaginary concrete walls, throwing in an unfriendly moat and an army of vicious alligators to enforce the notion. Keeping people from causing emotional pain is a hell of a task but it can be done. Harry has accomplished it many times. He's grasped the concept of not letting the unwelcome in ever since his parents passed away.

It took Zayn a while to knock down Harry’s line of defense. He’s no longer someone to keep at a distance. Not after all the kisses and embraces and support. He has formed part of the foundation that keeps Harry going even if he's not let in all the way. But that’s normal in a relationship, Harry believes. Sometimes secrets are inevitable.

Harry failed to keep his secret safe, tried to keep Zayn from knowing about Louis’ continuous presence in his thoughts and dreams but Zayn proved to be brighter than he lets on. As soon as Harry dropped his guard, the other took a peek faster than the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

Now that they have that hanging over their heads, all Harry can think about is how fucked up their relationship could get from this point. He loves Zayn and he doesn’t want to lose him.

While Harry watches Louis relax in the arms of someone else, with their lips moving together in a gentle and sickening motion, he rebuilds his wall (which was broken the moment he set foot into P-ZAP) and thinks about Zayn. He locates a favorite memory involving his hazel-eyed boyfriend and forces anger away for the second time in the same day. He’s going to approach what fate has yet again sprung on him with a less destructive and probably less painful strategy.

In the seconds that feel like millenniums where he stands witness to the biggest betrayal since Brutus and Caesar, his chest aches with nostalgia and jealousy stronger than the roughest gales that ever wind did blow. And now that his subconscious is reciting an old poem Zayn is obsessed with, the anger dissipates in small amounts. Then he recalls the look on that boy’s face when Harry had the sea-based poem printed on ancient-looking parchment and hung in a classy frame above the fireplace. His eyes lit up like they were staring into the soul of a grand gesture when really, Harry’s intentions were simple.

Louis pulls back from Liam but stays within the circle of his buff arms (that Harry definitely doesn’t gawk at). With his back to Harry, Louis’ face can’t be seen but it surely mirrors Liam’s peaceful face. The serenity of the moment sets Harry’s insides on fire, burning all the way up to his heart. As a frantic earnestness, Harry returns to thoughts about Zayn and the way he bites his tongue whenever he has a canvas to paint on. When that doesn’t work, he counts to ten. The next thing he hears is: "gross!" Niall, with his heavy Irish accent, shakes his head while saying, "Our noob is going to think you're running a brothel here, Liam."

Harry doesn't pick up on the offhanded nickname, doesn’t care to shoot back a sarcastic remark as before. He’s still concentrating on not losing his cool.

He really fucking needs Zayn.

Stepping away from Liam and swatting at Niall’s chest for the hyperbolic comment, Louis turns to Harry. His cheeks are pink and he’s displaying a sheepish grin. He opens his mouth. If he’s about to apologize for the little show him and their boss just put on, Harry’s walking out before he knocks down another display. On purpose.

But in the few minutes of knowing Niall, he never expected that he’d have a reason to owe him a favor. They don’t even know each other and obviously Niall has no idea what huge courtesy he’s doing for him. But whatever the case, Niall deserves a nice floral arrangement like the one Harry sent to Gemma. Earning compensation for himself, the lifesaver speaks over Louis in a bored voice. “How about we cut out the PDA fuckery until my shift is over?”

Now Harry isn’t subjected to hear Louis excuse his unforgivable behavior.

Liam’s eyes flicker to Harry’s briefly before settling on Niall. “You’re single and bitter, that’s not our fault,” he reprimands. The weightiness of his voice suggests that he’s not disposed to arguing further.

Harry cocks his head. Interesting. It almost looks like Niall has to bite his own tongue to keep from talking back while Liam tilts his chin up. Harry suddenly loses interest in the scene, however, because he spies one of Louis’ hands reaching for Liam’s bicep.

“Babe,” he says tenderly.

Harry’s going to fling himself off a tower. If he’s going to work here and endure this bullshit on an hourly basis, he’ll need to invest in durable earplugs. A blindfold would be nice, too. Who says a blind man can’t work? Stevie Wonder is a prime example of success. Of course Harry isn’t about to bust out a piano and sing away the blues to make his point. (Besides, _his_ Louis hated the blues.)

Liam breaks his staring contest with Niall, focusing his attention back on the boy still grasping his arm. And just like that, as quick as it came, the tightness in his eyes and mouth unfurls. Harry can relate; Louis has that effect on people. But no, he isn’t going to revisit the memory of Louis convincing him to accept his offer of living together.

A sound erupts and three pairs of eyes travel to the source: Niall. His head is bent back and pale hands cover his stomach. He’s actually chuckling like a buffoon and it makes him the most endearing shit in the room, Louis and his perfidy be gone from Harry’s mind!

“Cornballs,” Niall emits past the obnoxious yet bearable laughter, shattering the stiffness that had formed around them. Liam and Louis shrug collectively.

No matter the irritation gnawing at Harry’s brain, he involuntarily wonders what led up to the scene in front of him—the relationship between boss and employees. One bond touches upon mockery and authority, although Harry more than likely read the latter part wrong. He can now see that it’s a thing they do, challenging each other’s limits, a reminder of the presence that Aiden and Gemma have in Harry's life. The other bond (the one threatening Harry’s composure and the guard he insists on preserving) translates into an established and romantic (nauseating) relationship he can’t begin to wrap his head around. How did they meet each other? How did Louis go from being with Harry to falling for the fucking prodigy of Steve Payne, a former contributor to London’s auto industry? How long have they been together? Did Louis leave Harry because of Liam?

All the questions filling his mind serve as a distraction. He doesn’t see Niall’s proximity until his sleeve is being tugged at, evoking Harry to return to the planet. Some time passed since he zoned out because Louis and Liam are now walking toward another end of the shop.

Niall nods in their direction. “We going or what?”

“Oh, uh—” His voice is hard to find when he’s trying to school his expression and act like he isn’t on edge. “I already got a tour.”

Niall tugs on his sleeve again. “Louis just said you haven’t seen the storage room downstairs. Don’t you pay attention? Or are those curls blocking your brainwaves?”

Was he seriously out of it for that long? Last thing he heard were the chuckles that turned Niall’s skin rosy. Harry studies the face waiting for him to shoot back a retort. Niall’s pretty in a way that Harry doesn’t usually admire but it sits nice with his personality. Up close, his eyes look to be a different shade of blue that cannot compete with Louis’. Also, his eyebrows are darker than his hair, hinting he isn’t a natural blond. Yup, they’re close enough for the roots to show. He stores the observation for future comebacks. If they’re going to be co-workers, Harry might as well prepare himself for the banter that is sure to come.

For now, he settles with, “There’s a downstairs?”

Down aisle fifteen and to the right (instead of taking a left for the toilets) is a short hallway that steers off into a semi-lit path that ends at a heavy metal door. Liam holds it open for the rest of the boys. Harry gives him a tight grin in gratitude for the chivalry. He's still feeling uneasy and possessive (very much so) but he's trying to remain civil. With a pat on the back, Liam gestures for Harry to follow Louis and Niall who are quickly descending ancient-looking, stone-carved stairs he wouldn't have spotted otherwise. While he thought the hallway was strikingly dim, it is not as opaque as the space they've just entered. A dreary coldness seeps into his bones, leading him to think he's about to arrive to his own funeral. Right when he contemplates pulling out his phone to guide his steps (and to be prepared to call for help) the wall along the stairs reveals flickering lights that someone must have switched on. He turns his head to see Liam tapping at a small box on the wall beside the entrance--must be the light switch the other boys so rudely forgot about. They're probably used to coming down here and don't mind the darkness. Thanks for considering your guest of honor, Harry comes close to muttering out loud. Before Liam turns back around, Harry returns to his feet and making sure he doesn't end his life in a tragic accident.

As the lights on the walls quit flickering and turn into their maximum capacity to light up the area, Harry becomes mesmerized by the sight. He's almost at the end to where more concrete flooring awaits him. Falling would definitely be painful. But how much so, if he'd be dying in a place that resembles the hidden chamber of a castle? (He has to admit, the occasion would be quite a story to tell except he d be dead and unable to do the talking and what is he even thinking?) The room is spacious and mostly occupied by cardboard boxes piled high on one end. In the center, there's an assembled array of furniture which gives the palace a homely feel even if part of it is meant for storage. Louis is sprawled across one of the couches and fuck if Harry is refusing to look his way. Instead, Harry studies the surrounding walls that are classically decorated. It's quite cliché how there are statues of actual knight armory, portraits of long-gone war generals, familial crests, and intricate tapestries illustrating battles and animals and seasons past. It all leads up to an encased sword hung high on one wall. The hilt of the silvery weapon resembles the shape of a wayward serpent that is reflective of one of the family crests, Harry notes. He puts two-and-two together, taking his time to take it all in.

"This museum you got here...did it come with the shop or is it a family thing?" Harry's voice is surprisingly light.

Liam's delight fills the room with a pleasant melody. "Pretty impressive, huh?"

"Bloody show-off," Niall berates from his seat at a table for three. There's a beer in front of him. Harry acknowledges the stereotypical Irish factor and smirks. Niall mirrors the smirk and points at the fridge over by the boxes. "Thirsty?"

Harry shakes his head. "I'm okay."

"Good answer," Louis comments, rising from the couch and offering a smile of approval.

Stop that.

"I knew he'd be great for the job. Unlike Niall, this lad knows that alcohol consumption is prohibited during work hours."

"Oh come off it," Niall shoots, waving a lazy hand at Liam. "You've thanked me dozens of times for keeping this fridge well-stocked. Besides, I'm doing all of us a favor. We can't let anything go to waste or the smell of prisoners and noble testosterone will rise from the Medieval period to haunt us."

"Prisoners?" Harry questions, a bit weary. He knew there was something macabre about this place.

"To answer your first question, yes, this is a family thing. My ancestors owned land that stretched all around this block and the next one. During Medieval times, this secret chamber was used to keep some of Queen Mary Tudor's prisoners captive. My great grandfathers of the 16th century were nobles who opposed the spread of Protestant practice around the country. Like Mary, they preferred Catholicism--"

"So long story short," Niall shamelessly interrupts, "Bloody Mary and Liam's ancestors were in cahoots during one of the scariest reigns Parliament has ever seen, probably. I don't think I learned enough history in school to care and I'm definitely not too inclined to learn it now. All you've got to know, Harvey--"

"Harry," Louis corrects.

Harry's heart squeezes.

Niall ignores Louis. "--is that hundreds of innocent people were killed in this torture chamber and yet this is our place of relaxation and comfort. We're not insane, I promise."

Louis and Liam snort.

Hating that they're n'sync, Harry makes one last swooping observation of the room to occupy himself. "Creepy... But I think I like it. This is sick."

Louis nods enthusiastically, agreeing, and stalks off toward the stairs they came down from. "Okay lads, we've got work to do. I wouldn't be surprised if someone came in while we've been down here and stole a couple of things."

"Who would steal car shit on this side of town?"

Liam glares at Niall and while Harry would be glad to watch them challenge each other again, he'd also like to start getting some work done. It's why he's here, anyway. It's the reason why he's sacrificing his feelings. He needs the money and he needs to prove to Zayn and Gemma that he is mature enough to keep a steady job. (He needs to figure the new Louis out.) Harry makes to follow Louis but Liam crosses his path.

"There are a few things I want to discuss before you start officially working, if that's okay with you."

How can anyone refuse Liam and his polite mannerisms? Niall grabs his beer and leaves them to talk. Once he's gone, Liam takes his seat at the rectangular table and motions for Harry to sit across from him.

"I thought there wouldn't be an interview," Harry jokes.

Liam laughs. "I only have a few things to say; nothing crazy."

"Alright."

"Alright, so, your full name is?"

"Harry Edward Styles."

Liam blinks a couple of times. "Styles? Harry Styles? Why does that sound familiar?"

"I don't think we've met before... Have we?"

Lost in thought, Liam doesn't immediately respond. His chocolate-colored pupils penetrate Harry's soul, leaving him naked and uncomfortable. The careful scrutiny gives him anxiety. "Probably not. Your name just sounds catchy." Liam shakes off the confusion on his face and continues, "Anyways, what experience do you have with cars?"

"Honestly, I don't have any. I uh--told Louis that earlier." Like a bitter taste, saying that boy's name out loud makes him want to cut off his tongue. "I've worked in sales before. And I can drive fairly well," is what Harry has to offer and if pathetic isn't his actual middle name...

"Great! So, you can help out Louis in sales as well as accomplish what he can't himself."

Even though it's a damn lie, Harry jumps ahead and supplies with, "Drive?"

Liam nods quickly. "I guess you two got well acquainted already."

"A bit."

 _Ha_.

"There will be times when you'll have to deliver or pick up merchandise and car parts. You think you can do that? You can say no."

"I can do that, not a problem."

"It wouldn't be anything hard to handle, of course. I take care of the bigger shipments and the ones that require long drives. You'd only be making local rounds and a few out-of-town whenever I'm busy with other stuff. Cool?"

Without much pondering, he replies, "That's cool with me. I really need this. And like, thanks so much for the opportunity and um--"

"I'm glad I came across you yesterday."

"Me too and thanks again."

Liam smiles, reaches into his back pocket, and holds up a set of jangling keys. "These will be yours." He demonstrates which key will be for the company truck, the one for the parking garage out back, and the one for their designated warehouse space just down the road. "The fourth and smallest key is of no function, just there for decoration."

Relief washes over Harry because he thought he'd be driving around in his crappy car. This job is turning out better than he could have hoped for. A plus is that he won't have to be grounded to the shop alongside Louis all the time.

"I forgot to mention there will be some heavy lifting. The truck is equipped with dollies."

Harry flexes in jest. "I can handle it." There's something about Liam that makes him feel sure of himself--regardless of him having some unorthodox claim over the new Louis. Harry will omit that indignant factor for some time being.

They laugh in a surrounding echo, filling the void of the hidden chamber and Harry tells himself to refer to it as the basement from now on because the less ghoulish the association the better.

~ ~ ~

Louis is charging an old man at the checkout counter when Harry and Liam emerge from the depths of Medieval hell and into modern civilization where natural daylight can be seen through the shop windows. The air is less dense up here, Harry isn't even exaggerating. Liam continues on towards the work station where Niall is cursing over a broken power strip. Their muffled voices are all that can be heard but nothing specifically. From the looks of it there's an argument brewing between those two.

"They're the best of mates, they argue over everything," Louis informs him and okay, Harry wasn't aware he was being watched. Good thing he knows how to flip a switch and act like he can talk to Louis without thinking too far into it.

"That's understandable."

"If you ever see them attacking one another, don't be alarmed. Sometimes they act brave and wrestle."

Wide-eyed, Harry looks over at the work station once again. Niall's jabbing a finger against Liam's chest and is waving wildly with his other hand. He seems to be disproving something that Liam has said. The blonde is pink-faced and the other is shaking with laughter.

"See, nothing worrisome."

Harry concedes and as his head turns to Louis, he freezes. He isn't going to stare at Louis who is rising on his tiptoes to reach for a nameless item atop a shelf. He's struggling but still, Harry isn't watching, isn't seeing Louis' shirt ruck up a bit and no, he's absolutely oblivious to the exposed naturally tan skin. He recalls a time when Louis was darker than that, deliciously tan from their trip to the southern coast. They accidentally fell asleep on the beach. Louis got a nice golden tinge to his already flawless skin. And then there was Harry, pale as the day he was born, whom was easily abused by the sun's harsh rays. Louis laughed for hours at how pink Harry got. There used to be a photo somewhere in their house. Harry probably trashed the embarrassing image during one of his episodes.

"Harry, this is tragic to my pride but will you help me with this? There's no point in rolling over the step ladder."

Harry snaps out of it and strays away from the term 'tragic.' Louis shouldn't be saying such a word when he doesn't know how _tragic_ his disappearance was.

Thanks to his height and long arms, Harry easily grabs the box that Louis points to. He sets it down on the counter and before he can walk away to put some well-needed distance between them, he's stopped by Louis claiming there's something for him. Harry is handed a black apron with the grey P-ZAP logo on it and three work shirts that match with the color scheme.

"The apron is technically part of the uniform and is tradition. Liam doesn't care if you wear it or not. I wear it once in a while, Niall never does, and you decide if you want to set your own trend. As for the shirts, you have to wear them when you make deliveries or pick-ups just because they're official and whatnot. As for pants, you can stick to jeans like the ones you're wearing."

"How did you know I'd need the shirts?" Harry asks astonished. Unless Louis is telepathic (can't or he'd have questioned Harry already) or has superhuman hearing, there's no way he could have guessed that Liam would give him that position.

"You clipped the keys to your belt hoop."

Oh, he forgot. "They don't fit in my pockets."

"Of course not," Niall teases. He wipes his hands on a rag and acts like he didn't appear out of nowhere. "Those jeans are tighter than--"

"Niall, if that's a dirty joke I'm sensing, you can keep it to yourself."

"You're lame."

Harry wants to strangle Niall. No one fucking calls Louis lame, the light insult is far from the truth--

"What do you have against dirty jokes?" Harry asks suddenly.

Louis doesn't react accordingly--keeps his eyes sincere. "They're unnecessary and not funny at all."

"Exactly why you're lame."

This time Harry doesn't fantasize over cutting off Niall's airwaves. His Louis appreciated perverted jokes and had a great sense of humor. He's still adjusting to _this_ version of Louis.

Niall points at his watch. "Oh look, lunch time!"

"How far did you get with those Bentleys?"

"So so."

"It's not time for your lunch, sorry mate."

Niall pouts. "Liam said the same thing. You guys are made for each other."

After hopelessly waiting at an airport for a no-show, after the beating he got from Greg and his group of imbeciles, and after coming across his long lost lover, Niall's offhanded comment jars Harry into a familiar and horribly daunting place: anger. His walls tremble.

Zayn, he thinks of Zayn. And then he begins the exercise that always brings him back to serenity.

 _One_.

"You've only worked for maybe fifteen minutes today."

 _Two_.

"The drill I need isn't working."

 _Three_.

"Just because we have a new guy on deck doesn't mean your work ethics should dwindle."

 _Four_.

"Are you accusing me of fucking up the drill? It's the power strip that is acting up and how am I supposed to use that massive drill if the only strip equipped for the job is dead?"

 _Five_.

"Liam told you to replace the strip when you started having problems with it a week ago."

 _Six_.

"I've been distracted with other stuff!"

 _Seven_.

"Like what, may I ask?"

 _Eight_.

"Josh refuses to go out with me!"

 _Nine_.

"You're not gay, Niall."

 _Ten_.

"I could be, _Louis_."

 _Fuck_.

"I thought," Harry starts, intercepting Louis' incoming retort, "Liam and Niall are the ones who argue." Now that he's managed to calm himself down, he's willing to salvage whatever remains of the small percentage of peace his life offers.

"We weren't arguing," Louis clarifies. He smiles at a customer who walks in. It's blinding.

"Yeah, we weren't, lad. Louis is way too nice to ever legitimately argue. Why do you think him and the boyfriend over there get along so well?"

Louis blushes and casts his gaze downwards.

Fuck this. Harry didn't sign a contract that binds him to dealing with this alternative version of Louis. He's done. He's quitting. He's leaving. He turns on his heel and plans the best exit since Shakespeare’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern except minus the deaths… Why is Zayn’s stupid book making an appearance in his metaphor?

Zayn.

He takes his phone out. “I need to make a quick call.”

The urgency in his tone seems to pacify Louis and even Niall.  
 Under the heat of the sun, Harry crosses the street and finds a shaded spot on the curb for him to sit on. His hands are shaking and it takes extra seconds to call up Zayn. His phone rings and rings until finally, a muffled “one sec” comes through. Harry waits and ignores how Niall’s face is pressed against the glass of P-ZAP’s entrance.

“ _Babe_ ,” Zayn says, much louder and clearer this time.

“Hey,” Harry greets. “I forgot you had class right now.”

“ _You actually saved me from a boring seminar. How's it going?"_

“I think my boss likes me. That's good, right?"

“ _Harry! You got the job officially?"_

"Pretty much."

" _I'm really glad_."

"Me too. I--I want to see you."

" _You will in a bit_." Zayn pauses. " _You alright_?"

“Yeah," Harry exhales. "Don't want you to miss class and I have to go back to work. Can't slack off on my first day."

" _Yeah, okay_." He sounds unconvinced but doesn't push it. " _Take it easy, babe."_

Back inside, Harry keeps his head ducked to avoid Louis and Niall's questioning stares. Eventually Niall loses interest and returns to the work station, leaving Louis and Harry to deal with customers.

Great, Harry is great. He is calm, breathing regularly, not feeling anger creep up his spine. Hearing Zayn's voice did the trick. He hardly remembers why he was even freaking out. Louis isn't part of his life anymore and that's okay because Harry has someone else too.

That's what gets him through the rest of his shift. A helpful mantra.

Thankfully they get plenty of customers within the next few hours. The shop seems to be quite popular. Harry has mastered the cash register and that leaves Louis to go up and down aisles to offer his assistance. He's really good at what he does and the way he performs shows that he's happy with what he's got.

Louis' happiness was always important to Harry. It still is. He can live with that. If P-ZAP and Liam have been his source of happiness, then it shall be thus way. Harry will not let his guard down again (ever) while he's working here for however long it takes him to get sick of it as has been the case with all of his past jobs.

When they have lunch, Niall insists they all eat at the diner on the corner. Harry declines, claiming he isn't very hungry, and stays behind. Louis asks him three times if he's sure. Harry nods three times. Liam hesitates as well so Harry gives him an encouraging smile.

While they're gone, he sends a text to Gemma.

**Did you like the flowers ?xx**

Gemma responds right away as if she'd been waiting.

**_I guess I can't be mad at you forever. Thanks, baby brother. X_ **

And then:

**_They look nice on my desk._ **

A minute later:

_**Congrats btw! Zayn told me.** _

Harry still doesn't understand the bond between those two. Sometimes he jokes that Gemma is trying to steal his boyfriend but then Zayn will grab him and kiss him hard.

**I'm not surprised... Thanks .x**

The familiar jingle of the entrance bell causes him to jump. It disrupts the quiet he was enjoying. He looks away from his phone and tenses.

"Brought you a sandwich," Louis says. That explains the white paper bag in his clutch. "Wasn't sure what you'd like so I chose chicken."

His cheeks burn. He loves chicken. His Louis knew that. "You didn't have to." They practically lived at Nando's.

"No biggie." Louis hands over the bag. "Is chicken okay?"

Their hands almost brush. Almost.

"Wh-what? Yeah, yeah. Chicken is cool."

Chicken is cool.

"Cool."

Harry struggles for coherency. "Where are--"

"Niall was hitting on one of the waiters: Josh. He mentioned him earlier, remember? Or more like whined about him." Louis chortles adorably. "Liam stayed to try and tame the goof."

"So he is gay?" Although it was said during Harry's countdown, the information managed to engrain in his head.

"Ever since Josh started working at Fincham's diner, Niall's been obsessed with eating there. Why do you think he was eager to start his lunch break? He's never hooked up with a guy before and he's definitely never showed interest in one until Josh. I'm waiting to see if something happens with those two."

Harry doesn't know what to say because it isn't really his business. He wishes Niall an indirect 'good luck' and thanks Louis for the food.

He eats the most delicious sandwich that afternoon. Louis refuses to accept money for it and explains that it was a welcoming gift. Niall and Liam return. The blond burps and the burnet beams.

Once Niall is out of hearing range, Liam hands an envelope to Harry. Answering Harry's confusion, Liam discloses that it's an advance.

"For me?" Harry asks, perplexed.

"You have a house payment to make tomorrow, am I correct?"

"You remember that?"

"That's why I offered you the job. You seemed really upset and I know what it's like to not want to disappoint people."

"No but--you barely know me and--"

Louis intervenes, "Take the money, Harry."

He's going to cry.

~ ~ ~

On his drive home, Harry releases countless tears. They roll down his warm cheeks and soak up his collar. The day dragged him through the emotional roller coaster of the century. All he wants is to get off the ride, kiss Zayn, and sleep until he has to wake up the next day and do it all over again.

The check Liam gave him is safely tucked away and will be deposited first thing in the morning. Liam Payne is a blessing; Louis is lucky. Harry is at no capacity to hold a grudge against them. Whatever may have removed Louis from Harry's life and dropped him into Liam's, whatever may have erased Louis' memories, and whatever may have led Harry to P-ZAP, he's inexplicably feeling obliged to allow their joy. From a distance, nonetheless, he'll never cease to wonder the mystery that unites them.


	10. What do I do

  
Harry gets up early for work the following day. He's up before his alarm and before the birds start chirping outside their window. He's up while Zayn is cuddling into himself with the absence of Harry's body beside him in bed. Dropping a light kiss to his temple, Harry wonders if what he's doing is wrong, keeping Louis' reappearance from Zayn.

When he got home the evening before, Harry struggled to maintain a calm face to not appear like he'd seen a ghost for the day. Thankfully Zayn was busy with coursework, conducting research for a paper on Claude Monet. He hardly looked away from his laptop screen when Harry found him at the dining room table.

They locked lips for a moment.

"Hi, babe," Zayn said, distracted and deep into his work. "Dinner's on the stove."

They've been domestic for so long now that Harry hardly thinks about it when it happens. He knows it's big and lets that knowledge slide past him each time.

He washed his hands at the sink and peered into pots of mixed vegetables and diced chicken.

Chicken. Like the sandwich that Louis brought him from the diner. Fuck.

"Did you eat already?" He didn't know how his voice carried over to Zayn, hoped it didn't sound suspiciously raspy.

"I was waiting for you," Zayn responded with a casual brightness.

Monet was a good distraction.

After eating in silence for five minutes, Zayn hooked his foot around Harry's ankle.

"How was your day?"

Harry swallowed a piece of chicken which could easily pass as a lump in his throat.

"Pretty good."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "And guess what?"

Zayn leaned away to type something on his laptop which he only pushed to the side to make room for his plate. He wasn't looking at Harry, suddenly immersed in his paper again, food still warm in front of him.

"We're going to make the house payment in time."

The glint in his boyfriend's eyes transformed into a wordless mantra for Harry. That was why he needed his new job at P-ZAP.

P-ZAP would be good for them, would help pay the bills and other things.

P-ZAP would keep Harry busy and Zayn happy.

P-ZAP would be the portal to Louis.

Not that it mattered because Harry is with Zayn and Louis is with Liam. Nothing will change.

~ ~ ~

Stopping at the bank on his way to Northampton to drop off the house payment gave Harry the push he needed. He can do it, pretend Louis didn't ruin him when he left and pretend Zayn wasn't there to comfort him but, actually, to love him.

Harry still wants to figure out what led them to this point. But that's for later when his head is screwed on tighter and his heart thumps less painfully at the sight of his ex. His healthy ex who smiles when Harry walks into the shop. They're the first ones there; the only ones. Liam and Niall don't arrive for another two hours to open up the work station. Alone with Louis for the second time in a row and it could go wrong in so many ways.

No pressure.

"Something on your mind?" Louis' voice drips with everything sweet, beginning with caramelized candy and ending with butter pecan ice cream. Again he's wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans that just don't suit his fit body. Not that Harry notices or deems the memory of a naked Louis easily rousing him upon many sensual occasions.

His pulse quickens so he chooses a different detail to pick at. Louis' hair. Harry misses his feathery soft chestnut hair and windswept bangs that would take him ages to style no matter the simplicity.

The quiff just isn't right.

And neither is the way Louis is waiting for Harry to answer his question, arms crossed and concern twisting his delicate features.

God, everything about Louis is still so delicate, so divine. Harry's thoughts derail when Zayn pops into his mind. Zayn, his loving boyfriend who loves him. A lot.

Harry finally shrugs, attempting nonchalance, "A bit tired, 's all."

He isn't tired. He went to bed early because Zayn wasn't in the mood for sex (Harry wasn't either, still wound up from everything, from _Louis_ ). Their wifi was putting Zayn on edge as it was acting up and preventing him from speeding up his scholarly searches. The paper is due in two days; Harry knows he'll get it done on time. That's why he rubbed his boyfriend's shoulders before falling asleep, definitely not dreaming about a boy trapped in the wrong lifestyle.

"Made it to the bank on time?"

What? Why is Louis asking such a personal question? It's none of his business.

He nods gruffly, unsure where his mood went. Louis doesn't mention it; his mobile rings and he excuses himself to answer.

Harry doesn't like to eavesdrop but for some reason, people tend to make it easy for him. Like the time he heard Gemma and Zayn talking. Of course he doesn't regret that. He wouldn't be with Zayn had they been more careful with their conversation. Zayn would have never made a move because it was always going to be up to Harry.

"Yeah, we're here," Louis' end of the conversation carries over to aisle four where Harry is inspecting a liquid that smells like a cat drenched in lemon. "I'll restock that, no worries," he says. Clearly he's speaking to the boss. Okay. That's okay. "Alright, babe."

This is why eavesdropping is bad on every level.

"Sure. I'll tell him. See ya later."

 _Tell me what_? Harry wonders and the thought doesn't last long before Louis is appearing from around the corner and walking up to Harry who is feigning interest in the label on a bottle of some dark blue oil.

Louis holds up his phone. "It was Liam."

 _And_?

Harry glances up reluctantly.

"He needs you to drive to the next town over to pick up a few boxes. Is that okay with you?"

As if he has a choice. Liam told him it was part of his job description. So he nods.

"You have the keys with you?"

Patting his left pocket as a confirmation, Harry opens his mouth to ask for the address of wherever the package is. Louis beats him to it:

"I'll text you the address so you can program it into the truck's GPS. Can I have your number, please?"

Harry acts as if reciting his number to Louis doesn't scare him. It's almost as if Louis is reconnecting by drawing a bridge where they can contact one another outside their obligations as they did once upon a time. After all these months, the bridge feels rickety and worn. No one has stepped on it.

He has no clue what to make of this so he shoves it at the back of his frenzied brain and saves Louis' number as _P-ZAP_ without a drop of thought.

~ ~ ~

 _Babe_.

The sentiment that wasn't for him stays throughout the day--when he's driving, signing a release form, loading a dozen surprisingly light boxes onto the truck, and pulling back into P-ZAP's garage in the back. Louis' there, waiting to help with the boxes. He tells Louis he can do it himself, that it's no trouble. Louis insists anyways and their fingers brush just once when they go to pick up the same box. Harry instantly pulls away and goes for another.

The phantom touch hovers over his skin as they get to work in the shop. The proceedings are similar to the day before. Already, Harry's getting the hang of it. His job isn't difficult except for the fact that he still knows very little about cars. Maybe if he invests in one of those books for dummies...

But that would mean this job is permanent and looking that far into things is not what Harry should be worrying over. He doesn't even know how long he'll handle working close to Louis without revealing their past to him (or to anyone else for that matter). There's so much.

If it weren't for Niall showing up and walking in like he owns the business, Harry would have fallen into one of his breakdown modes. Niall's presence easily counters the weight sitting at the bottom of Harry's stomach. He's like a medicine that can be found over-the-counter whether one seeks it or not.

Maybe this can go far... as long as Niall's around. The bright side to the mess in his head--in his whole being--comes in the form of a pink-cheeked lad that can't seem to stop wiggling around and causing a raucous that arouses giggles from Louis.

Oh, but how does Harry suppress the urge to touch Louis when he hears those fits of laughter that get smothered sooner than he'd like? Fuck if fate is currently watching him with amusement, teasing him effortlessly.

Louis' holding a hand against his own mouth, shielding the world from the most adorable sound since a baby's coo at the same time that Liam enters with a frown on his face. His features all seem ruffled. Louis immediately stops what he's doing, face falling and whatnot, to tend to Liam's apparent needs. They disappear to the basement (or the dungeons as Niall labels it) and Harry doesn't see them again until Liam sends him and Niall on their lunch breaks. Harry is hesitant to go, seeing as Louis has deflated and Liam is still on edge but he gets assured that there's nothing to worry about.

Fincham's diner isn't what Harry expected. They don't get seated by a friendly hostess and don't get handed menus or offered coffee. Instead, Niall skips right in and claims a booth in the busiest corner without so much as glancing at the workers. Harry sits across from him, feeling fucking uncomfortable. People are staring. Perhaps he should have read the instructions on the back of the bottle of Niall medication before taking a dose.

They sit there with nothing in front of them. Niall hardly says a word while he taps away at his phone and mutters something about bipolar people. As soon as a waiter approaches their table, Harry releases a much needed sigh. He expects a menu and instead receives a glare.

Did he do something or...?

"Oh, _hey_ , Josh," Niall says. His eyes are still glued to his phone. Harry has a feeling they're glued to a blank screen.

Isn't this the guy that Niall has a huge crush on?

"Hey, Niall," Josh the Waiter says.

"And I'm Harry," he says because Niall must have forgotten that Harry's there.

Josh is still glaring.

Harry doesn't know what food the diner has to offer except for the sandwich that Louis ordered him and since he can't eat that again (because of reasons), he asks for a menu.

Josh scoffs and scribbles something on his little notepad. Okay, so if Harry gets served mystery meat, he's making Niall eat it.

"And you?" Niall gets asked by the moody waiter.

His blue eyes finally peel away from his phone and land on Josh.

Now Harry allows himself to observe Josh and while he can't help but acknowledge that he's nicely muscled and gratuitously good looking, he is unimpressed with his attitude.

"You already know what I want." Niall's suggestive tone could only mean one thing: Harry should bring lunch to work from now on.

A very qualified decision on Harry's part becomes disastrous when voiced to Niall as soon as Josh stalks away to the kitchen.

"Didn't you see the way he was treating you?"

Harry doesn't appreciate that Niall is practically screaming and doesn't let it go unknown. "You're both the rudest guys I've ever--"

"I know! Aren't we perfect?"

"Now I see why Liam had to supervise you yesterday."

"Boss man thinks I'm being reckless."

"Aren't you?"

Niall rubs his arms. It's not cold although they're sitting beneath an air vent. "You probably don't understand what it's like to know someone but not _know_ how to be with them."

The lack of cold air suddenly affects Harry's face. His cheeks heat up and he's pretty sure they are tinted a deeper pink than Niall's by the time those words completely and fully seep in.

Niall knows shit and will never know more than that. He's about to say so but then there's Josh, setting down (roughly) a plate of cheesy chips and a burger piled with mash and beef and mushrooms.

"What is this?"

Josh laughs. "We serve it to all of our first timers."

"Did you spit in it?" Harry can't be blamed for speculating.

"Don't worry, I'll eat it if you're that concerned," Niall offers.

 _Gee thanks_ , Harry opens his mouth to say but Josh walks away gruffly with the plate that was probably meant for Niall.

"Explain," Harry demands.

Eyes lowering to an uninteresting spot on the table, Niall fidgets. "I think he's jealous."

"Of what?"

"You, ya noobie!"

"Me?"

"I guess he thinks we're on a date."

"Tell him we're not."

"But I'm finally getting a reaction out of him."

Niall is pouting and nope, that doesn't work on Harry.

Absolutely not.

Harry gives in and allows Josh to continue sulking. Niall's pout transforms into a pleased grin while Harry begins a list of places where he's never returning and Fincham's is at the top of it.

~ ~ ~

He itches to learn about the new Louis. An interesting fact or a pet peeve or his favorite color or the song that makes him lose himself no matter the times he's heard it.

Anything, really.

He's becoming desperate and his second day at P-ZAP hasn't ended. It's just that... Niall is to blame for saying what he said during lunch.

_You probably don't understand what it's like to know someone but not know how to be with them._

What is Harry supposed to do besides keep Louis a secret? The realization that he must actually do something to get more information distracts him from all else. He won't do it to be with Louis. He'll do it to find peace with the idea that his Louis is gone and this Louis is here to stay.

~ ~ ~

Harry falls into a routine that first week: he wakes up early, kisses a sleeping Zayn, is out the door before 8:00, at the shop on time (sometimes before Louis), avoids all possible eye contact with Louis, learns about the products they sell, tunes out whatever cute shit Louis and Liam engage in, distracts himself with clients, organizes shelves, goes on short trips to pick up packages, and most definitely keeps away from the diner.

That is, until Niall basically drags him.

"I brought my own lunch, Niall."

"It'll still be there when we get back," he says, the stubborn tit. "Come on!"

"I don't want to have problems with the staff," Harry admits.

Niall stops to narrow his eyes at Harry. Beneath the sun, the boy looks childlike. And pouty. He's pouting like last time.

"Dude, please--"

"I'll do anything for you. I'll take on your work load if you want."

"No, that's not--"

"I'll convince Liam to give you a raise!"

" _Niall_."

Harry gets dragged to Fincham's nonetheless. He's got to start using a more stern voice with Niall. He could try to replicate Liam's tone, the one he uses when Niall becomes an annoying son of a--

"Please, please. Last time we were here together, Josh slipped his number on my receipt."

"Okay, so mission accomplished?"

"He still refuses to go on a date with me, though. I think if he sees us again, he'll change his mind."

Harry crosses his arms.

"I already told you I'll do anything, Harry. Need me to make that better?" Niall's eyes fall to Harry's crotch. "You've been looking uncomfortable since this morning."

Harry's embarrassment flushes itself throughout his whole body. He'd been trying to ignore the twitch in his pants. But like, Louis had been bending over for the longest time trying to scrape super glue off the floor. His shirt rode up from behind and those couple of inches of skin combined with the fact that Harry and Zayn haven't had time to shag, and, oh yeah, Louis still has a great arse, resulted in his state of discomfort which he thought no he would notice.

 _I have a boyfriend_ is the response Harry should give. For some reason he can't understand, his mouth is forming the words "fuck off" as he turns on his heels and puts his back on Niall and his ridiculous quest to make Josh jealous.

"Wait! Okay, that was out of line," Niall calls after him and no, Harry is not going to give in. He keeps walking. Niall follows. "Please help me out. It's the last time, I swear. Please!"

Either Harry is an idiot or Niall is the best persuasive speaker in the UK. It must be the emotional appeal he casts upon his willing listeners. They sit at the same booth. At least Niall humors him with a light conversation while they wait for Josh to amble over. He drops a menu in front of Harry and gives Niall the dirtiest look. When he's gone, Niall drops his head on the table. A packet of sugar sticks to his cheek.

"He isn't happy to see me."

"No shit," Harry mutters. He hides behind the menu and scans each listing.

"I think I need to push him a little. Harry--"

"How is the guacamole here?"

"Maybe if we hold hands--"

"There's spaghetti?"

"I'm going to hold your hand."

The warning doesn't give Harry enough time to wrench away from Niall's searching grasp. He's forced to drop the menu almost as abruptly as Josh so kindly did. Niall laces their fingers and Harry aims to step on his foot from beneath the table.

"What can I get you?" Josh is back, clutching his notebook and pen tightly.

"We'd like one bowl of spaghetti. Right, Harry?"

Harry blinks back. He wants chicken tenders.

"And milkshakes."

Josh leaves. Harry steps on Niall. He complains.

"He's going to lose interest. I don't think this is helping your case at all." Harry wriggles his hand free from Niall's. "Don't ever fucking do that again. Okay?"

Niall chuckles.

"OKAY?"

"What's with all the anger?"

Harry is going to slam the menu over Niall's head to give him a real reason to laugh.

"You seriously need a release, don't you?"

"Niall, talk about my dick one more time."

"Here are your milkshakes," Josh grits out. His patience is clearly wearing thin. Niall wanted to push and he succeeded.

"I think he's warming up," Niall says.

The hope on his face screams that he's giving Josh the benefit of his doubt and all the other clichés like 'he'll come around' and 'soon he'll realize what he's missing out on.' Harry sure fucking hopes Josh will see the light or whatever that way Niall can stop trying to use him.

However, one good thing comes out of it: Harry figures a way to get the information he wants without having to interact much with Louis. Not that he's a coward because he's not willing to spend unnecessary time questioning Louis about things. Niall is just an easy way out and a good candidate for the investigation. That's all it is.

While he contemplates whether or not to drink his milkshake (stuck on speculating that Josh may or may not have added an unflattering surprise inside) Harry asks, "How long have you been working for Liam?"

"I started off working for his dad," Niall starts, titling the salt shaker and watching Josh wait other tables in his peripheral vision. "When my parents moved back to Ireland after getting sick of the Brits, I reckon, Mr. Payne took me in. Liam and I know each other from scouts in primary school and our dads were friends.

"Mr. Payne didn't allow Liam and I to work for him until we were like 14. We learned everything from him. When he passed away it was hard for both of us but like, I think we're doing alright. Obviously the shop isn't mine like it is Liam's but it matters to me too."

"Was it only the two of you for a long time?"

He shrugs. "Sorta? We've had people come and go. Louis is the one who has stayed the longest with us."

"And how long is that?" Harry leans closer and closer to Niall. Although he can feel Josh's eyes on him, he doesn't care to retreat.

"Mmm, about a year? I think. I don't know, why don't you ask him yourself?"

And that is it for the day. Harry doesn't want to come off as the successor to Curious George and he also doesn't want an angry waiter stabbing him with a fork if he continues to lean in.

Niall smirks, eyes filling with mischief. "I bet he'll go out with me tonight."

~ ~ ~

The whole world gets informed that Josh indeed agreed to go see a movie with Niall. Harry gets the call when he's putting away his and Zayn's leftover dinner. He never gave Niall his number but doesn't doubt that the bugger has ways to get what he wants.

Or it could have been Louis who gave it to him.

He reminds himself to breathe correctly.

Liam and Louis are on the line as well. Apparently Niall thinks they all need to know and the best way to do it was to create a three-way call.

" _Lads, I fucking told you he'd say yes_!" Niall nearly shouts in their ears.

" _You were whining that he wouldn't give you the time of day only a week ago_ ," Louis points out.

Harry bites his lip. Niall's love life is the biggest cliché.

" _Be happy for me, dammit_!"

Then Liam's laughing and Louis catches on as well. It sickens Harry knowing that they're probably cuddled up in bed or sitting on a couch with their favorite TV show on pause.

" _We_ are _happy, Horan. Now let's end this phone call that is very not my style,_ " Liam negotiates like he's talking to a client. " _We're not on Gossip Girl_."

" _Babe, you don't have a style,_ " Louis says. His joke is not cute. It makes Harry lightheaded.

" _Harry will stay and listen a while longer, won't ya, noobie_?"

"Sorry, Niall, I uh--someone's waiting for me and I have dishes to wash--" Harry clicks to end the call. He's probably going to regret that. Niall takes on the mindset of a child when he wants to.

"Who was that?"

Zayn startles him. His arms snake around Harry's waist and his lips press chaste kisses to the nape of Harry's neck. He smells fresh like daisies and spice and fuck, Harry hasn't forgotten the discomfort he felt earlier. The front of his jeans still feel a size too tight and Zayn's hands are moving dangerously close. Blood rushes south with a wave of want. He pushes back against the front of his boyfriend and no words are exchanged until they end up fucking against the breakfast bar.

"I've missed you," Zayn whispers against Harry's throat. "You've been so busy these past few days."

"Yeah." Harry kisses his temple. "So have you."

"I love you like this."

He's not sure what exactly Zayn is trying to say--whether he loves seeing Harry naked against the tile floor in the kitchen or hearing him admit to being busy at work. The latter concept is still quite foreign to them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly, truly sorry that this update is late. For those of you who are still with me, I adore you. I promise that my updates will be less scattered from now on because I really want to finish this story. It's been almost a year since I started it!
> 
> Cheers yo xx
> 
> If you're down for a chat related to my fics or to the perfection that is Louis Tomlinson, I will be on my blog more often. I'm on Tumblr with the same username as here, if you're interested.
> 
> :)


	11. Awake and trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets real answers.

Less than three weeks have passed since Harry found Louis.

Nothing has changed.

The sun continues to shine into the glass entrance of the shop during the hottest hours of the day; Niall hasn't stopped gushing over Josh the Waiter; Liam rarely wears anything to cover his biceps; customers ask Harry tough questions that he still doesn't feel adequate enough to answer; and Louis, he's joy personified.

He's the single dandelion in a meadow. He's a burst of energy that was cultivated in a land where only angels exist. He's the ray of sunshine that warms up the coldest places on Earth to give life to everything that refuses to grow...

Okay, _nope_.

Zayn needs to stop reading out loud. All the poetic material he obsesses over is etching itself into Harry's brain and instigating a very dangerous stream of consciousness that usually starts at the beginning of his shifts and ends until he's arriving home. Or maybe it never ends, just continues to flow like water out of a broken faucet.

Sometimes Louis gives him extra material to work with and it's unfair. So fucking unfair. It'll be on certain days when Louis' in a wonderful mood, humming to a tune and sweeping up the shop, or smiling at customers like they matter, or poking fun at Harry for not knowing how to pronounce the names of some of the brands they sell.

Meguiars Professional, for example, is the weirdest name a manufacturer has ever given itself. Sometimes Harry has had to recommend their detailing clay to customers. He usually says with faux enthusiasm: "If you try Me-gears, you'll get the results you need!"

Louis has just heard Harry say it for the first time. After Harry's done bagging a customer's purchase and wishes them a good day, Louis folds over with laughter.

"It's pronounced Meg-wires," he says around a mouthful of amusement.

A mouthful, _heh_.

Harry scowls and busies himself with adding change to the register. "That's exactly how I said it," he argues.

"You said it like Me-gears."

"Sounds the same."

"It does not!" Louis accuses, a hand gripping at his tummy as it shakes with laughter.

It's ridiculous how Harry can't tear his eyes away from the boy who hurts him over and over again for not remembering who he is and who they were.

Not knowing how else to react, Harry pouts without caring what age it makes him look. Louis hiccups to a stop. It's the strangest thing. Theres a shift in his demeanor and then he's muttering, "You're close to pronouncing it right. Great effort." There's a false pretense in his voice. The air surrounding them grows thick with awkwardness.

Harry opens his mouth to continue the light jokes, because he likes seeing Louis like that, but Louis drops his eyes and resolves to sorting through a catalogue. The room goes quiet. Liam and Niall are in the workroom, noisily drilling bolts into tires, and yet the silence that surrounds Harry and Louis is notable.

"Lou —" Harry stops himself, having to change the direction of his speech since he had been close to calling him by a nickname. _That_ nickname that hasn't been spoken by Harry in so long. He can't say it now. Dear God, that would be a terrible, terrible thing to say. They haven't reached that point. Not quite. He clears his throat. "Louis —"

"I was just kidding," Louis mumbles. His eyes haven't left one particular page in the catalogue and his fingers don't make an effort to change it. He's staring at a selection of different-sized jacks.

Harry kneads his hands against the sides of his jeans to keep from reaching over — to clasp Louis' hand and tell him he's not offended. He can take a joke. There's no harm to that. And then he realizes that Louis is looking at jacks.

"There's no Jack on staff, is there?"

Louis looks up, eyes flashing with humor. There he is. So, so delightful. "You've finally caught on!"

Harry blushes. He cant figure out what to do with his hands anymore so he stuffs them into his pockets. Keeps them there to avoid touching Louis.

God, he's screwed.

~ ~ ~

Harry's been learning more and more about this new Louis lately.

These little details, facts, points — they swirl around his mind every night before he goes to bed while Zayn is curled up on his side of the bed and Louis is somewhere very, very far away.

This Louis can't engage in a joke for long before he's immediately apologizing for taking things too far (which he definitely does not do). This Louis actually wears socks, does not like messes, and is remarkably responsible. He's so mature and so different from the Louis that Harry once knew... A fucking alternate universe is what they're currently living in.

Liam seems to depend on Louis a lot. He trusts him with money and lets him handle a lot of their business affairs with other companies. Also, Harry has noticed that Louis is the only one, besides Liam, who knows the password to the safe in the basement.

Was their relationship like that? Did Harry have that much faith that Louis would get things done? He tries to think. Every night he lies awake in bed, reminiscing and trying to think.

Louis had insisted on moving in and covering the house payments. But that came easy to him. He had money. (Harry lets himself wonder whatever happened with that money... Does Louis still have it? Can he still utilize it? Did it disappear along with him?)

He shuts his eyes and goes back to thinking other things.

Harry's never been the most trustworthy person. It took him too bloody long to find a stable job with good pay and good hours. He's finally pulling through and Zayn is responsive to this change. The kisses they share are more passionate, filthier, and thankfully distracting.

During those moments, Harry forgets there's a Louis in his life again. Finds it freeing. Healthier. His heart aches less and the pressure that constantly settles in his chest while he's around Louis lifts for a pleasant while. He gets Liam out of his head, too. Obliterates the thoughts that Liam's the one who gets Louis every night and can touch him and make him feel things and experience how lovely he is.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Harry's not supposed to think that way. It isn't right. He's got Zayn.

~ ~ ~

It's his day off and Harry is doing absolutely nothing — unless sitting commando and watching reruns of _The Inbetweeners_ counts. Zayn's at school but keeps sending Harry cutesy messages about what he rather be doing at home. Something in Harry's belly stirs and he's contemplating rubbing himself off when the front door opens. Harry slips off the couch, lands on the floor with an ungraceful thud, and hastily grabs a cushion to cover his crotch.

"Zayn told me you have the day off and I've been missing you," Gemma explains as she shuts the door behind her.

Harry forgot Zayn gave her a key. Bloody hell. His face heats up as Gemma covers her eyes.

"Ugh! Please tell me you're not naked over there."

"That's why you're supposed to knock, sis," Harry says, sympathy absent from his retort.

"Can't blame me for wanting to see your ugly mug," she shoots back, turning away from the scene. "Please put some clothes on."

Reluctantly, Harry obeys, throwing on one of Zayn's superhero tanks and a pair of shorts. He returns to find Gemma perched on an arm rest, phone in hand.

"So," she starts, leaving room for him to take the reins.

It dawns on him that they haven't talked much since he ruined her attempt at getting him a job at her magazine. Whoops. At least he sent her a nice bouquet.

"So I love my new job," he says, smiling. It's true. He does love it. Even if it makes him ache.

Masochistic, a memoir by Harry Styles.

She seems to relax. "Oh, good. I was hoping you'd say that."

"Why?"

"Obviously because of your job history. And Zayn. He's been so happy these past few weeks."

Harry nods, aware that Zayn still talks to his sister more than he does. Is Harry a shitty brother?

"It's going great, Gem," he says reassuringly.

"Yeah?" She lifts an eyebrow. "Where are you working?"

That's a question Harry doesn't know how to answer. He's been extremely vague with Zayn, says it's an auto shop about an hour up north. He isn't specific in case Zayn ever decides to pay him a surprise visit.

Harry scrambles internally for a plausible answer because Gemma knows how to get people to talk.

"An auto shop," he answers, nonchalant.

She mulls it over, pursing her lips. "I asked Zayn where it is. He said somewhere up the M1."

Gemma is intuitive and he's pretty sure she inherited that from their mother. She tilts her head forward, a tiger ready to pounce.

"I'm not good at giving directions, you know that." Harry goes for a joking tactic, poking fun at himself with the hope that she'll play along.

She doesn't say anything for the longest minute. Harry holds his breath until a shrill ring startles him. He's extremely grateful towards whoever chose this exact instance to call him. He reaches for his cell phone, assuming its Zayn. However, the screen displays a different name. It says P-Zap which means...

Louis.

Louis.

Louis???

With speed he didn't know he possessed, Harry plucks the device up before Gemma gets a glimpse of the caller's name. He spares her a glance and triumphantly finds that she isn't looking, already distracted by her phone.

He exhales. "It's my coworker. Gotta answer. Be right back." Subtle. He's all about casual. Calm as a clear day.

As he heads for his bedroom, Harry's heart beats violently. It thrashes ever so brutally against his rib cage he's sure the whole neighborhood can hear it. His phone is still going off, still displaying Louis' name, and Harry rushes to answer.

"Hello," he says, breath hitching with anticipation.

" _Hey, mate!_ "

Mate.

No. Harry does not need to hear that right now.

"Hey," he replies.

Does he sound solemn?

" _Sorry I'm calling on your day off_."

That's a yes.

"No worries."

There's a pause.

" _I was going to ask_..." Some static. Is Louis in a cave? " _Can you come in._.." More static. Is he walking through a tunnel? " _An hour earlier tomorrow_?"

"Okay."

" _You sure_?"

"Yup."

" _Okay, great... See you in... Morning_."

Harry's finger hovers above the button to hang up when Louis' voice stops him. It crackles like fire.

" _Harry_?"

Familiar, this feels familiar. Harry's heart climbs to his throat.

"Hmm?"

The line cuts off. He doesn't get to hear what Louis was going to add. Harry listens to the dial tone while his confusion drowns in it. Where the hell was Louis? Why did he sound so far away? Is he okay?

Harry inspects himself in the mirror hanging above the dresser — lips parted, eyes wide and watery, and skin so pale he could pass for a ghost.

So he slaps at his cheeks to regain color, wipes at his moist eyes, and does not try returning Louis' call. Gemma doesn't ask questions when he rejoins her, explains she has a last minute interview to conduct, and hugs him goodbye.

Harry breathes.

Louis doesn't call back.

~ ~ ~

"I'm sad I missed Gemma. My professor kept me in a bit longer to discuss my clay project." Zayn pouts over the stir fry he's making while Harry leans back against the cold counter, arms crossing.

"I never thought I'd have to compete with my sister for your affection."

Zayn turns away from the stove to give Harry his attention. "Babe, don't be silly."

They fool around until their dinner sizzles loudly in the pan. Harry wonders what goes on with Louis and Liam when they're together, if it's hard for them to keep their hands off each other.

It ruins his appetite.

~ ~ ~

Inventory was probably created by Satan himself. The task is tedious, boring, and quite heavy. The music streaming from the overhead sound system isn't helping either. Beats and lyrics go past Harry's head like attention-seeking flies.

It's too early.

He didn't get much sleep last night. Even with Zayn breathing softly against his neck, Harry couldn't stop thinking about Louis' illusive intimacy with Liam.

How awkward that he has to look Louis in the eye while they work and exchange information. It's very unprofessional to be imagining his coworker and boss doing stuff behind closed doors. It's also very painful.

"How about a break?" Louis suggests, coming up behind Harry and startling the shit out of him.

A break?

 _Together_?

They have yet to take the same lunch hour. Louis typically pairs up with Liam, and Harry goes with Niall. Harry has been happy with this arrangement because it saves him from having to spend extra time with... certain people.

A one-on-one with Louis would be... disastrous.

A one-on-one with Liam would be... interesting. But probably disastrous as well.

"You go ahead, I'll catch up."

Louis furrows his brows and then fusses with the collar of his shirt. "We've been doing so well since eight," he points out. "I think we both deserve a breather."

Harry sets his clipboard down and follows Louis to Fincham's. Why waste time arguing if he can't deny Louis anything? Never did actually. Sadly, he never will.

They sit in Josh's section. Since he sort of started dating Niall, he has changed his attitude towards Harry somewhat. Niall expects Josh will get over his jealousy soon. Harry hopes so because he can't help wondering whether Josh meddles with his meals or not.

Louis orders a sandwich and seasoned fries. Harry orders a salad. He's not particularly hungry.

As they wait for Josh to return, Harry taps on the table with his finger nails. He realizes they haven't been trimmed in a while. Does Zayn have crescent shaped indents on his back? If so, Harry hasn't taken notice.

"I'm so hungry. I didn't have time for breakfast this morning," says Louis.

He's only sitting two feet across from Harry. His arms are folded and resting on the table. Harry would normally tease him about the lack of manners. But in this setting, he can't seem to find his voice. They're too fucking close.

Shit.

"Me too," he grunts.

"I reckon we'll be done with inventory before closing time."

And why is Louis still doing small talk? Harry doesn't want small talk.

He wants to know something.

"Um Louis?" Harry looks down at his hands trying to find a way to form his question without sounding like a creep.

"Yes?"

He looks back up at Louis. "Where were you yesterday?" Fail.

Louis' eyebrows pinch together.

Fail, fail, fail.

"When you called me. It sounded... Weird?"

"Oh!" And just like that, Louis' face smooths over. "I was at Liam's dad's house. It's a farm. Gets horrible reception."

Okay. So Harry might have freaked out more than necessary. It's good to know, though. That solves _one_ mystery.

Josh brings their food. They eat in silence. For a bit.

"Harry?"

Harry stops the hand that was traveling towards his mouth with a forkful of spring roots. "Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

Can Louis hear Harry's heart thumping? Is that physically possible? It's out of control and he fears Louis has taken notice.

"Yeah. I'm alright."

"But you're always..."

_Always what??_

Louis looks away, focusing his eyes on the window and beyond. Those beautiful blue eyes watch cars go by on the street. They blink often. Harry catches himself wanting to reach out and turn Louis' face away from the window. He wants Louis' attention again. He wants those eyes to look at him.

Thankfully the boy picks up where he left off without Harry having to encourage him to continue. "You're always upset. Or you seem upset to me, at least."

Well, shit, is Harry that obvious? He tries not to be. He tries to enjoy himself at work. He tries. He's always trying.

"I'm sorry," Louis says, rubbing at his own temples. "That was rude."

"No." Because _no_. Why is Louis apologizing? "That wasn't rude. I just don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." Louis averts his eyes again and takes a bite from his sandwich. It's the same chicken sandwich he gave Harry on his first day of work. Is that his favorite meal now?

"Is that your favorite meal?"

Harry really can't control his mouth sometimes.

"Oh this?" Louis raises the sandwich and takes another bite. Harry expects him to answer with food in his mouth because Louis was an obnoxious bugger when he wanted to be. To the contrary, he swallows before speaking and that sort of irritates Harry. "It's delicious. Don't you agree?"

He's only had it once. "I do."

Louis smiles and Harry swears the sun chooses that exact instance to channel all of its energy onto Louis. He wants to frame it. The way Louis' eyes are crinkling at the edges and those lips that part and reveal white, white teeth. His hair is still off, still not feathery and smooth looking as Harry would prefer. But everything else is perfect.

"Liam says I should try new things but this sandwich..."

Harry stops listening, simply nodding his head along and pretending to be interested in Liam's opinion. The sun gets the hint and ducks behind a cloud while they continue dining.

When Harry eventually tunes back in, he learns more about Liam without wanting to.

"Liam took his dad's passing harshly and he's still recovering. We go to the farm house every week. Mr. Payne was buried where his large field of crops end." Louis gestures with his hands. A lot. (He never really did that before.) "Liam pays his respects and he makes sure the field is being cared for properly..."

Louis goes on and on about how great Liam is for creating jobs in the countryside. He tells Harry about Liam's generosity and kindliness. He paints Liam as an angel who was born to bless everyone and everything he touches. Like some type of King Midas or some shit.

Harry might as well fall for Liam since he appears to be Jesus Christ himself.

Josh interrupts Louis' story — thank fuck — with the bill for their meal. Harry is grateful and will tell Niall to thank Josh with sexual favors or something.

As they take the short walk back to the shop, Harry fills the space with talk about wanting to go on a road trip. Anything to avoid another story about Liam Christ.

Of course the world seems to be against him today because:

"The only road trips we ever go on are those drives we take to the farm. Other than that, Liam thinks road trips are dangerous. He always worries about my safety," Louis gushes. "And sitting in cars for a long time makes me anxious anyway."

There is no way Harry will join the Liam Fan Club. What the hell is going on?

He gets back to work completely avoiding Louis for the next few hours. Harry especially avoids looking over when Liam and Louis embrace and talk to each other in murmurs.

The hours go by at a snail's pace and by the time he gets in his car, all Harry fantasizes about is a long, uninterrupted nap. But a hand knocks at his window right as he puts the car in reverse. Harry rolls down the window.

"Can I help you?"

Niall peers at Harry for a minute too long. "Any plans for tonight, noobie?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" Harry jokes.

"Don't even let Josh hear ya." Chuckling, Niall grips at Harry's car door to lean in. "The guys and I are going to a pub. You should come."

~ ~ ~

Harry discovered a long time ago that he's a masochist so he goes to the pub instead of heading home. He texts Zayn about having to work a little overtime and Zayn doesn't seem to mind at all.

Harry's a despicable liar.

The pub isn't far from P-ZAP. It's a twenty minute drive in which Harry nearly bangs his head against the steering wheel. Why is he doing this to himself?

Niall seems to be well known at the pub and is greeted upon entry. Liam, Louis, and Harry follow the blond to a table. Without a word, Harry seats himself on the bench seat beside Niall, while Liam and Louis do the same across from them. What a lovely picture.

"Why didn't Josh come?" Liam asks, raising a thick brow at Niall.

Niall shrugs. "He wasn't feeling it. Maybe next time."

They all sigh. Josh is always doing that to Niall — telling him he's too tired to go out even though they're supposedly boyfriends. Or at least, that's what Niall says they are. From Harry's perspective, it seems as if Josh isn't into dating as much as Niall is.

"I'll get us all drinks. Harry, are you fine with rum?"

Harry hates rum. It's disgusting.

"Er I'll go with you," he suggests, throwing Liam an apologetic look. But then again, why should Harry apologize? Liam doesn't even blink.

He and Louis lean against the bar for a good ten minutes because the bartenders are only serving females at the moment.

"How very sexist of them." Louis climbs onto a high stool.

Harry mirrors him with less difficulty. "Maybe Niall should come make the orders. Isn't he a regular?"

"Yes, that little bugger is always here for happy hour."

"Then," Harry says, nodding at their table, "I'll go get Niall."

"We can wait a little longer."

Harry's eyes fall to his arm. Louis' hand is clutching it. Louis' gentle hand. Clutching Harry's arm. Softly. But the pressure is there and it takes his breath away. Literally.

Louis is looking over at their table, hand still on Harry, unaware of what he's causing: a shortage of breath.

"Let's talk."

Gut twisting and thoughts bursting inside his head, Harry finds speech an impossibility.

"Why were you acting weird when we got back from lunch?" Louis turns back to Harry. Frowns.

He shouldn't frown.

He forces air into his lungs and exhales. "I — I wasn't."

"Harry, I don't want to argue with you."

Is Louis really that observant? Harry thought he only had eyes for Liam.

And that thought infuriates Harry.

"When did you meet Liam?"

Louis retracts his hand. Harry knows he didn't use a friendly tone but damn it, he needs answers. He's giving up the patient and subtle mode.

"Why are you asking?"

"I'm just curious," Harry clarifies, teeth grit.

"About a year ago."

Everything suddenly feels far away — conversations, music, people — Louis mostly.

"A year ago?"

"Yup," Louis chirps. He smiles. "Liam saved me."

"From _what_?" Harry questions in outrage. It must translate as complete interest in the subject and nothing else because Louis provides an answer:

"I was nearly beat to death by someone who was trying to mug me. At least, I think that's what they were doing."

Tears well up in Harry's eyes. His nostrils flare. Fists tighten.

"Liam saved me," Louis repeats. He looks down at his lap, forehead creasing with worry lines. "He took me to a hospital. Head was bashed quite brutally."

Harry flinches. His whole body flinches.

"I woke up two weeks later. Liam was there. But my memory... _Harry_ ," Louis says in a whisper. Harry leans in and hovers closely. Louis sounds broken when he mutters, "I don't even know what my last name is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise updates will be quicker! I plan to finish this story this summer. I deeply apologize to those who have been waiting. Thank you for being patient. 
> 
> xx
> 
> Songs on my mind while I wrote this chapter: 
> 
> "Good to You" by Mariana's Trench  
> "High Hopes" by Kodaline  
> "Nothing Like You and I" by the Perishers


	12. While you're sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns a little more.

_"I don't even know what my last name is."_

Harry's in a downward spiral, body rotating clockwise into the rabbit hole like Alice. Or is he moving counterclockwise? Is that why he can't find his center? His brain needs to stop spinning so that Louis can stop looking at him like that—like he's worried about Harry.

Like when  _Harry_  worried about Louis’ disappearance. But as time passed, he gave up.  _He gave up_ and it turned to anger and disappointment. He thought searching for Louis was pointless because maybe Louis didn't want Harry to find him. He thought Louis left him.

But he didn't leave by chance?

He was attacked?

That's why he doesn't remember?

"Harry?" Louis says, hand shaking Harry's arm carefully.

 _Fuck_.

"Harry, I'm okay. Is that why you're in shock? I'm fine. Not banged up anymore, see?" Louis extends his arms and flexes, the veins in his forearms popping out a little, lines of blue straining beneath a pale complexion.

That skin should either be kissed by the sun or by...

Harry won't cry. He reins in the tears and swallows the shaky voice that threatens to spill out. Not here. Not right now. "You can't remember  _anything_?"

Louis shakes his head. Then, as if to put his head down in shame, he points out a scar Harry wouldn't have noticed otherwise. It's been covered by the stupid quiff he’s always sporting.

The gash is pink, about 7 centimeters long.

But how bad did it look a year ago?

"I might have been hit by a crowbar. That's what the doctor told Liam while I was... Out."

Harry cringes, his whole body aching to wrap itself around Louis, to cocoon him with warmth and safety, assurance and affection. He wants to tell him he's sorry for ever doubting him. Harry's head was a mess of thoughts and emotions then—a cabinet of badly organized files. And maybe it still is a mess, given the current situation, but now that he has some actual information to go off of, he finds it a little easier to look at Louis.

 "You don't remember your last name," he says slowly, careful not to scream 'Tomlinson' after each word, "But you know your first name?"

Louis nods.

"How?"

"There are things I remember, and a lot I don't." Louis' Adam's apple bobs in his throat. "I know my first name because I have old memories of my mum calling me that. Though," he turns his attention towards the bartender who finally takes their orders, "Four pints of your best brew, please," and hands over a couple of bills at the same time that Harry takes out his wallet. "On me."

"Thanks," Harry murmurs. "Next round 's on me." He's still spinning but at least he can focus on Louis' face, tinged with a splash of pink. "You were saying?"

"I'm not sure where my mum is."

"What do you mean?"

Louis turns back to Harry, eyes downcast. "She and my sisters... I tried looking for them when I started getting better. Liam went with me to my old town." Louis presses his lips together. He's fighting off tears. Harry knows that. (Would it be weird if he reached out and—?) "I couldn't remember the address, just the town. And since I couldn't put a last name to my family, the town directory was useless."

What? That’s all he tried doing? He didn’t bother to look for neighbors who could possibly recognize him? Fucking shit.

"So that was it? You didn't try putting up an ad? Something so that your family could at least find  _you_?"

Harry's anger swoops in and he can't bother feeling guilty and out of place for it.

Louis sinks back. "Liam said to give it time."

"It's been a year, Louis."

"Harry,” Louis says, eyes lifting from his lap to glare at Harry. “I'm not telling you this so you’ll judge me or feel pity. I'm telling you these things because we're friends."

That serves to shut Harry up.

 _Friends_.

And it hits him, the one-syllable word hits him in the face and in the heart and in the stomach and just about everywhere that Louis has ever touched.

It doesn't matter that fate has reacquainted them. It doesn't matter that they're gaining a little progress each day they spend together. It doesn't matter that it's getting easier for Harry to coexist with someone he thought he was going to marry.

 Liam has leverage over Harry now. He saved Louis and he probably never lost his patience during the recovery time, whereas Harry thought moving on was what he needed.

Harry doesn't deserve for Louis to ever remember him.

It's in that instance that the bartender places their drinks in front of them.

Louis is worrying his bottom lip, the tips of sharp canines leaving a mark. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. My apology." He abruptly walks away with two drinks, leaves the other two for Harry to grab. When Harry makes it back to the table with a short delay, Liam is happily accepting his pint from Louis and making space for him on their shared bench seat. Niall's eyes meet Harry's and there's something disconcerting about the way they hold his gaze.

~ ~ ~

_“There are things I remember, and a lot I don't."_

Harry didn’t make it into the Things Remembered pile. He wonders what did.

Or worse: who did.

He thinks about it when he drives home. He thinks about it when he's unlocking the front door. He thinks about it when he's undressing himself. He thinks about it when he crawls into bed and settles beneath the arm that Zayn automatically and subconsciously wraps around his waist.

Harry should spend more time with Zayn. He's been using all of his energy to be near Louis. Zayn needs him a lot more.

"Babe, let's go out tomorrow," Harry whispers into the dark, uncertain if Zayn can even hear him.

But he receives a grunt in reply so there’s that.

~ ~ ~

“Where are we going?” Zayn asks from beside him, placing his feet on the dashboard.

Harry speeds to switch lanes and answers absentmindedly, “Wherever you want to go. Your choice.”

“Yeah?” Zayn’s voice is light and playful. He seemed excited when Harry pulled him into the shower and reminded him to wear comfortable clothes for the day. But of course Zayn rather go for an effortless-looking fashion sense than comfort. He’s wearing dark skinny jeans and a light grey Bob Marley shirt partially covered by a vintage leather jacket. He looks good even though Harry wonders how he can dress like that during the summer.

“Since we’re already heading in this direction, shall we visit the museum?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Typical Zayn wanting to do something artsy on their day out.

“Which one?” he asks and doesn’t wait for Zayn to answer, “I was hoping we could do something outdoors. Get some sun.”

Zayn wrinkles his nose. “It’s hot outside.”

“Then take off your jacket.”

“Okay, grouchy, what’s wrong?”

He can feel Zayn staring at him. Harry looks straight ahead with the excuse that he needs to focus on the road. “I don’t know if I want to spend time looking at stuff I don’t understand.”

“That’s the beauty of art! You don’t have to understand it.”

They rarely disagree and when they do, Harry usually loses.

“Which museum?”

“Victoria and Albert.”

“We just went there!” He makes a turn, wondering if he should go back around to get them as far away from art as possible.

“Three months ago.”

“I’m sure the paintings and sculptures haven’t moved.”

“But there might be something new.”

“You’re a nerd,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

Zayn’s lips kiss over his jaw, tickling the skin a little. “You said it was my choice.”

Harry swats him away and claims he needs to concentrate.

~ ~ ~

They spend nearly four hours confirming Zayn’s love for art, and if Harry didn’t shoot himself within the first hour, it’s because he’s been promised a night of something else. He’s not sure what.

 When they get back to the car, Zayn gropes Harry for the keys and a short while later they end up at Aiden’s with a case of beer they picked up along the way. Matt, Jade, and Leigh-Anne are there, arguing about a story that Harry only catches the tail end of.

They’re all surprised to see Harry.

“Look at the working man, too busy to hang with us regulars,” Matt is the first to slur, pulling Harry into a tight hug. He reeks of alcohol.

“Hey Matt, how are you?”

“He’s good,” Leigh-Anne answers, pushing her boyfriend aside to embrace Harry. She seems semi-sober.

Aiden and Jade greet him too and offer warm food. They’re apparently living together now. Harry has been out of the loop these past few weeks and is barely finding out. All of his friends have somehow managed to find someone when there was a time that Louis and he were the only ones in a relationship.

Why is he even thinking about that? That’s irrelevant.

Harry accepts a plate of food and some alcohol because he didn’t enjoy the pint that Louis ordered him the night before. And when he ordered the second round he promised, Harry only pretended to sip at his drink, which was fine because he had to drive home afterward.

At some point later on, maybe three beers in, Harry's phone vibrates way too many times to ignore. He studies the screen with half-lidded eyes and manages to make out the name of the caller.

Nail?

He walks out onto the back porch, leaving behind his friends and some board game they started twenty minutes ago.

"Heyyy," he mouths into the phone. When he can’t clearly hear the caller, he realizes he's holding the phone upside down and corrects his error. "Hey?"

" _You sound happy_ ," says a voice with an accent and who else would that be?

"Nail!"

" _Niall_."

"Nail."

" _Alright, noobie_."

"Not me."

Niall guffaws and maybe he's happy too. " _What are you up to, mate?"_

In his head he counts off the number of people sitting around Aiden's kitchen table. "Playing Cranium with five friends. I can count fast."

" _I would hope counting up to five wouldn't be a hardship_ ," Niall teases, amusement ringing in his voice.

"Join us!"

" _Nah, I can't. I got things to do. I'm really just calling to ask you something_."

Where Harry had been slouching against the backside of the house, he straightens and runs a shaky hand through his hair. What if Niall noticed something last night?

"I thought you were calling for a chat.”

Niall laughs and falls silent as Harry does, watching a small plane flash its lights overhead and then disappear from sight.

 _“So you and Louis seemed off yesterday._ _”_

 “What’s the question?”

 _“Why?_ _”_

Niall seems hesitant about what he’s asking and it serves him right because it is none of his business. Harry lets another moment go by before he says a tad defensively, “Louis told me a story.”

“ _Oh_.”

Zayn’s giddy voice booms from inside and startles Harry. He sounds like he’s heading to the back porch.

“ _Oh so, Louis—_ ”

“Yeah?” Harry says hurriedly, hoping Zayn won’t come outside.

_“He told you his story? About how he met Liam?”_

It isn’t surprising that Niall knows.

“He did.”

“ _Well that makes sense_.”

“Haaaaaz!” Zayn calls and goddammit, why did Harry sit back while Aiden shared some of his weed? “What are you doing out here?”

“ _Haz?_ ”

Shit, Niall.

“I gotta go, mate.”

“ _Okay Haz_.”

“Shut up.”

The last thing he hears is Niall’s cheerful laughter. Harry pockets his phone as Zayn backs him up against the wall. His eyes are squinted and set on Harry’s mouth. He's still wearing that fucking leather jacket and it looks good on him, it does.

But Harry can’t concentrate while they kiss. It’s a hard feat when all he can focus on is the fact that Zayn is nonexistent in the new part of his life.

Does Harry deserve anyone?

Zayn moans his name and it makes Harry shiver, not with desire, but with disgust for the person he’s become. He clutches leather and shuts his eyes. Tight.

~ ~ ~

Harry doesn’t sleep that night.

Somewhere, Louis probably does. Peaceful and guilt-free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs that stuck with me while writing this chapter:
> 
> 1\. "Through Glass" -Stone Sour  
> 2\. "Hemorrhage (In My Hands) - Fuel  
> 3\. "Save Tonight" -Eagle Eye Cherry
> 
> :)
> 
> xx


	13. Like a babe beside him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're getting there.

Harry resembled a human ashtray the first time he saw Louis.  
  
At the time he managed a candied apple booth at a seasonal carnival near Primrose Hill. The booth to his right consisted of face painting, and to the left, a man popped popcorn in a massive pot. Intimidating flames licked the bottom of the pot—which could mistake it for a witch's brew—and always sent smoke Harry's way.  
  
As most days, he felt hot and sticky and in dire need of a shower. That's why, when he saw a fit guy approaching, he cursed his boss for placing him in the most unattractive spot imaginable.  
  
The guy exhibited an immediate interest in Harry's candied apples, and when he asked for a sample, Harry prepared a whole serving for him, unaware of a jealous boyfriend a couple of meters away.  
  
The curious boy, who would later voice his name as Louis, accepted the apple and bit into it curiously. After swallowing, he smiled, eyes crinkling as if Harry had fed him the sun (he probably would have if it were a thing).  
  
Louis walked away with his boyfriend (Greg), glancing behind his shoulder and catching Harry's eye more than once. Unable to abandon the booth, Harry stood there stoic, skin smoked, and unappealing. But Louis had maintained a look of interest despite the tall bloke watching on. Harry wanted to see him again.

And he did.

Louis visited the booth the next day and the next. He made jokes and sent shivers down Harry's spine whenever he got too close with his cheekbones and his hands and his Yorkshire accent and his swooping fringe. Everything about this boy was enticing.  
  
Weeks passed until Louis and Greg broke up—a mutual decision according to Louis.  
  
That didn't stop Greg from coming around. He’d tease Harry about smelling like smoked ham or daunt him for Louis' sake. Harry considered himself guilty for their split, and although he wasn't proud of it, Louis assured him Greg would move on.  
  
("He wasn't right for me," Louis had said one evening, smooth fingers wrapping around Harry's wrist. "But you are, Haz.")  
  
Even now, Harry isn't surprised to run into Greg at the market. He's actually disturbed that it took so long for this to happen since that day at the park. Greg was always that fly that can expertly avoid swatters.  
  
"Hey," Greg says plainly. His hands are occupied with bags of groceries.  
  
Dryly, Harry returns a "hey."  
  
"How's it going?"  
  
"It's going."  
  
"I should apologize. For last time..." Greg waves his hands around as if that accurately portrays an apology.  
  
"You're a dick. Your mates are dicks. Nothing new."  
  
"I quit playing footie with them."  
  
"To stop spoiling the rest of the apples?"  
  
Greg lets out a laugh caught between amusement and offense. "Thank you for likening me to a fruit."  
  
Harry rolls his eyes as he moves past him, in a rush to find hangover food because he drank too much at Aiden's and he's not in the mood for banter. Zayn was still asleep when Harry slipped out, another victim of their careless night. He should get back to him for some much-needed cuddles.  
  
As if hearing Harry's thoughts, Greg inquires, "How's Zayn?"  
  
"Fantastic," Harry says over his shoulder, uncertain why he's still engaging in this conversation. He can faintly hear footsteps following him.  
  
"And Louis?"  
  
Harry turns fast, whiplash a promising consequence. "You don't know?" he blurts.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.  
  
Greg startles to a stop, almost bumping into a berry display. "No? I mean, that time at the park, Zayn mentioned something about not having a clue on Lou's whereabouts. And like, I tried to contact his sisters a while back but I guess they changed their numbers." He shuffles his weight to one side, his stupidly attractive hazel eyes resembling hurt. "I also tried his mum... Seems like Jay changed hers too."  
  
Harry hasn't tried to reach any of them. Guilt leaves an unsettling sensation in his stomach but he pushes it aside for later.   
  
"Did Louis ever...?" Greg resorts to using his hands again to convey meaning. He wouldn't be good for radio.  
  
"No. He didn't."  
  
His hands freeze. "Crap, that's—did you file a missing person's report?"  
  
"I really don't feel like discussing any of this with you, so."  
  
Instead of searching for what could have been a healthy brunch, Harry abandons his mission because he can't stand seeing Greg any longer than necessary. He thinks takeout from Nando's could satisfy him when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder.  
  
"Harry, hold on. I know we can't stand each other but could you like, have some consideration for one second, please?"  
  
"Consideration? What the fuck are you talking about?" Harry demands.  
  
Greg drops his hand. "I care about Louis," his voice drops to a lower octave, "I can help."  
  
"I don't need your help."  
  
"Are you not trying to find him?"  
  
"Fuck you. I am trying. Working on it, alright? Now piss off."  
  
Backing away, Greg's eyes reflect curiosity. "I don't know what that means. 'Working on it?' But you can damn well expect me to do some of my own work."  
  
"Greg—"  
  
"I can help."  
  
Harry watches him leave. And he thinks, _shit_ , maybe he spilled more than he should have. Now he has to worry about Greg ruining everything. What if he manages to find Louis before his memory regains stability? How would Harry explain the whole situation to Louis? To Greg? To the Tomlinson's?  
  
To Zayn?  
  
Zayn's still asleep when Harry gets back. Instead of letting him sleep longer, he rouses Zayn with the smell of chicken and a lingering kiss. Harry ignores the fact that his kiss speaks loud volumes of an apology. He's not trying to hurt anyone, is the thing. But the more time that passes, the higher the guilt rises.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"See, ya turn it this way to tighten the bolt and then add pressure at this angle to release—"  
  
"Niall, when I agreed to take a lesson from you," Harry interrupts, fighting back a grin, "I didn't think you'd make it this painful." He makes a show of covering his eyes with both hands. "I can't even look at you right now."  
  
"My beauty is overwhelming," Niall deadpans. “I know.”  
  
Harry laughs so hard he thinks he might lose a lung.  
  
"Hey, noob, how ‘bout you make yourself useful and help the customer who just walked in?"  
  
Niall's right, there's a man strolling around the store as they watch from the workshop window. Harry ducks out and puts on a welcoming smile.  
  
"I got it," Louis says from out of nowhere, hand lightly gripping Harry's hip in passing.  
  
He thought Louis was in the basement.

And what the hell?  
  
Harry lingers, the skin of his hip burning. Louis' trousers are slightly tighter today. They suit him nicely, especially when he bends down to retrieve a tool for the customer. Harry catches himself staring and feels his face turn color. He makes it back to the workshop in record time, startling Niall upon entry.  
  
"If I ever lose a finger because of you..." Niall holds out a hammer to emphasize his point.  
  
"Sorry, Thor. I just had a change of heart. Teach me everything."  
  
"Honestly you're a lost cause, mate. You thought a jack was a person."  
  
"Are you guys ever going to let that go?"  
  
He recalls their night at the bar, Liam bringing it up and laughing with Niall. The only one who hadn't been amused was Louis. He refused to even look at Harry after their talk, let alone participate in conversations having to do with him.   
  
"Never!" the blond answers melodically, turning back to a piece of metal in front of him.  
  
They continue their lesson, Harry only paying half attention when Niall threatens to quiz him at the end. From his peripheral vision, Harry swears he can feel Louis' eyes on them. That ends when Liam returns from a meeting with a new potential supplier. Harry is glad he has something to do with his eyes, such as fake interest in car knowledge, while a certain pair of blue eyes revert to Liam.  
  
“You’re not focusing!” Niall scolds. His cheeks are pink, hair ruffled. Harry can’t take him seriously because Niall is as intimidating as a Chihuahua.  
  
“Hey lads" is Liam’s greeting. It saves Harry from having to think up a witty retort. “Harry, why aren’t you in the store?”  
  
 _Because your boyfriend is a menace_.  
  
“I like to learn.”  
  
Niall makes an obnoxious whistling sound. “If I could get ya to learn.”  
  
“It’s fine. You have time for that,” Liam says with an encouraging smile _goddammit_. “I’m wondering if you can pick up a shipment in an hour or so. The warehouse is only a 15-minute drive from here. I asked Louis to go with you because it’s a rather large order.”  
  
 _Nope nope nope._  
  
“Sure, no problem.”  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The destination may not be far, but they’re forced to endure midday traffic, doubling their travel time.  
  
Louis is silent for the most part, occasionally humming along to certain songs on the radio. It’s an interesting prospect to Harry. He’s heard Louis sing before—it’s been a while—but he knows what it sounds like.  
  
He’d like to hear it again someday. Wouldn't mind it at all. Perhaps Harry could sing along. They did that quite often—in bed, at the breakfast table, in the car...  
  
A friendly woman opens a gate at the warehouse and signals for them to park. Louis gets out of the truck as soon as Harry shuts the engine off, only sparing himself half a moment to undo his seat belt. Okay then.  
  
~  
  
Half an hour later, they climb back in with cold drinks, courtesy of the woman. Louis wipes at the sweat on his forehead with the hem of his t-shirt. Harry is determined not to look at the exposed skin. The nutrition label on his drink becomes a source of distraction. 120 calories? 18 grams of sugar? 13 grams of sodium? Why so much?  
  
Softly, Louis announces he's ready to go. He makes a show of buckling his seat belt and placing his drink in a cup holder, arms folding over his chest. He becomes more closed off than before.  
  
Since it's the first time he's directly addressed, Harry's brain-to-mouth filter fails to kick in. “Are you also ready to let it go?" He can't help it. He's tired and irritated, wishing someone would kick him for making Louis frown.  
  
“Let it go?”  
  
"Sorry I—"  
  
“No, I think I know what you mean.” He falls silent, teeth nipping at his lip. In that time, clouds roll by, flowers grow, eggs hatch, and all other renewal-of-nature occurrences take place. “I thought,” Louis says. Finally. “I thought you were still upset about  Friday.”  
  
 Harry is such a shit. Utter, utter trash.  
  
“ _I’m_ not but aren’t _you_?”  
  
“Just embarrassed if I'm honest.”  
  
Harry’s heart trembles in it's tempo. Everything about Louis is soft no matter the harsh lines that frame his jaw and terse shoulders. He seems small.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Louis looks out the window and traces a finger along the handle. Harry won't blame him if he tries to escape. “You think I’m a fool.”  
  
What? Harry never— “I didn't say that!” His sudden outburst startles not only Louis but also the bird that perched itself on the hood of the truck at some point.  
  
“Harry, I gave up on looking for my family.”  
  
 _So did I._  
  
Everything Harry's ever felt breaks into tiny slivers of notices that this is monumental. This is huge. This is _Louis_. And _progress_. So, so much progress. "You went through a lot." _Without me because I didn't know_. “It wasn’t your fault. And I'm sure your family will understand that whenever the time comes.”  
  
Harry has a lot more to say—things that usually burrow inside the back of his mind. Now it all wants to rush to his mouth, begging to be voiced and heard. But judging by the place they're in, the pretense Harry has developed, and the fragile state Louis is in, now's not the time.  
  
“I should have tried harder.”  
  
 _Me too._  
  
“Don't put yourself down, Louis. Forget what I said at the bar. I was out of place. I'm sorry.”  
  
Louis drops his hand into his lap, eyes remaining in place, watching the outside world. He sighs. “I thought about it all weekend. And I think that maybe..." He twists to face Harry. "I should look for them again. I want to.”  
  
 _I can help_.  
  
Who else, besides Harry, can be of assistance in this case? He hasn't forgotten where the Tomlinson's live, nor has he managed to rid his memory of Jay reminding him that he's still welcome in her life.  
  
The right thing to do is obvious but he'll have to think it through once he has slept and gained an ounce of clarity.  
  
And then there's Greg. _Fucking Greg James_.  
  
The best thing to do for the moment is to steer the conversation in another direction because Harry's reframing from getting angry.  
  
“Have you talked to Liam about this?”  
  
Louis shakes his head. "I should—and I will—just. I don’t want to worry him. He's dealing with business affairs. Got a lot on his plate right now.”  
  
Harry briefly wonders if he should offer to take Liam's place. As a support system. But is that a reasonable idea? Absolutely not.  
  
"This is important to you," he says without vehemence and judgment. He can be neutral.  
  
Nodding, Louis reveals a fraction of a smile.  
  
"It would be important to Liam too, right?"  
  
"He doesn't like talking about those things... Those times. Not really." And just like that, Louis' smile fades. "Harry, you can't tell anyone what I'm considering."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"This stays between us."  
  
"Of course, Lou."  
  
He floors it. Or, well, his heart does.  
  
He said it.  
  
He said 'Lou.'

 _Lou_.  
  
Harry's close to slapping himself.  
  
But the outcome isn't what he expected. Louis lights up at the sound of the nickname, eyes a brilliant shade of blue, lips expanding to the sides, cheekbones coming out to play. Harry needs a shower. A cold shower.  
  
Louis picks up his drink and takes a long sip. Does that mean they should head back to P-Zap? Are they good? Everyone's happy? Harry fights to keep his hands steady. Why didn't he tack on the last bit of the pronunciation of Louis' name? As if it were all that hard. Louis. Not even a child could mess that up.  
  
~  
  
They face less traffic on the way back to work and Harry swears Louis hasn't stopped grinning.  
  
Then he says, "I haven't had a close mate in a long time."  
  
Harry bites back the names of friends that Louis left behind. He had many.  
  
"There's Niall—and he's great—but he's Liam's best mate," Louis goes on, voice sweet and playful. "You, Harry, could be it."  
  
Either Harry's heart is picking up speed and making that tapping sound in his ears, or Fate is knocking on his door once again. He goes with the former and breathes through his nose to steady himself. _Could be it._  
  
"Is that my new title, then? 'It'?" Harry giggles. Shit. He thinks he actually giggles.  
  
Louis sounds pleased when he responds, "I think you fit the criteria."  
  
"I do?" Harry steals a glance. Louis doesn't notice.  
  
"But we'll see. It's still early in the game."  
  
"Oh, so this is a game to you? I resent that."  
  
Harry may have been embarrassing enough to let slip a giggle but Louis beats him with a loud chuckle or guffaw or cackle. Whatever it may be, it's warm and empowering. A system boost.  
  
"I'll have you know, anyone would be lucky to have me as their 'it'."  
  
"Then I consider myself lucky."  
  
They're still in high spirits when P-ZAP comes into view. Niall lends them a hand in unloading the boxes. He sends several questioning stares at Harry. Is it obvious that the tension with Louis eased by about one thousand percent? Niall's stares all go ignored because everything is too good to be questioned. Even Liam backs off with the romance stuff for the rest of the day. His head remains buried in his work (a stack of official papers and fancy-looking pens) while Harry and the other boys enjoy the rest of their shifts.

When they part, for the first time, Harry doesn't feel anything but happiness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Stay tuned? This is gonna be about 20 chapters long (give or take). 
> 
> If you have any comments please leave them here or you can find me at: louisandsass.tumblr.com 
> 
> xx cheers!
> 
> :)


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